


Drawing a Map of the Universe

by Squeaky



Series: I'll Point You Home [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bruce is a really good dad, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Completely fake eastern European countries, F/M, Hurt Pietro Maximoff, Pietro is a good bro, Rebecca Barnes & Skye | Daisy Johnson Friendship, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, to his sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: Pietro and Skye are soulmates, but their first meeting is anything but idyllic -- and it only gets worse from there.He's sure he has to reject her in order to save his sister, and she's sure she can't let him leave because his life might depend on it. But nothing can change until Wanda is found and she's been lost for a decade. How can Skye and Pietro possibly find her?Luckily for them them both however, Bucky's a great boss and Becca majored in linguistics. There's even mention of a map.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, my beta [ Taste_is_Sweet ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet) deserves all the kudos in the world. She's the best and she makes my writing better. Any mistakes you find are therefore all mine.
> 
> The title is taken from the rather musically interesting[ Fundamentally Loveable Creature ](https://youtu.be/I2eMaD54hn0) by Blink.
> 
> This story took me over a year to write because Pietro is stubborn af. I hope you like it.
> 
> * * *

Pietro poked his head through the flap of the medical tent. It was late, later than he should’ve been wandering around the refugee camp, but this was important. “Doktor Bruce?” 

The doktor looked up sharply from his microscope before breaking into a big smile. “Pietro!” he said happily, but then frowned. “It’s late. Why are you here?”

Deciding it was probably okay for him to enter, Pietro slipped through the doorway into the tent. It was a large white structure made of sturdy canvas that creaked nosily in the wind and tended to drip when it rained. The floor was dirt like the rest of the camp structures and it was too hot in summer and too cold in winter, but Pietro loved it there. It was the only place in camp he truly felt safe. 

It was the only place where he didn’t feel totally alone. 

Pietro screwed up his face, trying to think of the proper words in English. “I, um,” he started and then just gave up and held up his left hand. “I have cut,” he said. “New cut. Tonight.”

Bruce was beside him in a second. Lowering his glasses from the top of his head he examined the wound. “You just did this? It doesn’t look too deep, but I’ll need to clean it—when was your last tetanus shot? Never mind, you probably need one anyway. You’ve been here longer than I have…” Gently he pulled Pietro towards the treatment area. Bruce spoke fast and completely in English, and as usual Pietro only caught a quarter of Bruce’s words, but he didn’t mind. Doktor Bruce was so easy to be around, with his shaggy hair and big glasses and gentle manner. He’d told Pietro that he was still in school, finishing learning how to be a doktor, but Pietro was pretty sure he was already really good at it. 

Doktor Bruce was cleaning off his wound. “How did this happen?” 

Pietro concentrated, trying to figure out how to explain with his limited English vocabulary. “I sleep,” he said finally, “and _poof!_ is pain and is bleed. I come to you.”

Bruce’s brow wrinkled. “It just appeared?” He gave it a final wipe, his mouth widening in a smile. “Well I’ll be damned. Congratulations, Pietro, you got your soulmark!”

Immediately Pietro looked at his hand. There was writing across his palm in a bold, feminine script he’d never seen before. “Sol-mark?” he tried the unfamiliar word. “What is?”

“Soulmark,” Bruce repeated. “It’s the writing you get on your body to help you find your soulmate.” 

Pietro looked at him blankly. 

“The writing?” Bruce pointed to Pietro’s palm. “This is the first word your soulmate will say to you, and the first words you’ll say to your soulmate will be on his or her body. That’s how you’ll know when you meet them. That they’re the one. For you.”

Pietro blinked, trying to make sense of the doktor’s words. He remembered his mother telling him and his twin sister, Wanda about the words that your one true love would say to you, and how you’d know because they appeared on your body. Wanda had been born with marks on her back; English words that were so romantic their mother said she’d cried when she’d first seen them. She'd also been able to feel her soulmate through their bond even though they'd never met. Pietro remembered how jealous he’d been of that; that his skin was still bare and his soul wasn’t connected to anyone else's. He was also sure Wanda would leave him as soon as she and her soulmate met and he'd been sad and angry all at once. He’d pouted for a full week until Wanda had promised him she’d never leave him, no matter how wonderful her soulmate was, and he’d felt infinitely better. He’d immediately promised her the same thing, and they wove wonderful stories of the life they’d share, married to their soulmates and living next door to each other. 

But that had been before the bomb. His eyes started burning. He turned his head away as he blinked back the tears. “You mean oznake duše?” Pietro said after he got his emotions back under control. “Like a word from your…?” He frowned and made a gesture covering his whole torso with his right hand. 

“Soul? Yes, soulmarks.” Bruce grinned at him. “You’re learning English really fast.” 

Pietro beamed at the praise. “I want to speak the English! I want to come to America.” 

“I’m working on it, buddy,” Bruce muttered. 

Pietro looked at his hand again. “What word is here?”

“It says you’re welcome.” Bruce read. “Nema na čemu.” It was one of the few Sokovian words Bruce used regularly. 

“Nema na čemu?” Pietro repeated, heart sinking. “But people is saying it all the time!”

Bruce grimaced as he pushed up Pietro’s short sleeve and wiped his shoulder with an alcohol swab. “I know buddy. Saying ‘you’re welcome’ is pretty common where I come from, too.” He stabbed a needle into Pietro’s shoulder and Pietro started at the sudden jolt of pain. “Sorry. I probably should’ve warned you. But hey, now you won’t get tetanus!”

Pietro smiled his thanks. Bruce took very good care of him, like he did for all the children in the camp. He looked down at his soulmark again. “Is in English?”

“Yep.”

Pietro tilted his head. “I am Sokovian.”

Bruce blinked. “That’s right,” he said slowly. “Why would your words be in English? Unless—“

“Is in America!” Pietro said excitedly. “I see them in America!” 

“Not so fast,” Bruce winced as he tied a bandage around Pietro’s palm. “There’s lots of countries in the world where English is one of the main languages. Belize, Canada, India, England…and English speaking people travel, too. He or she might be an Australian coming to visit, for example. I wouldn’t assume they’re going to be from the U.S.” 

Pietro frowned at Bruce's words. His soulmate had to be in America. He’d been dreaming of going to the U.S.A. since he’d met Bruce last year. The thought of staying on at the camp when Bruce went back to his home was horrible to think about. He’d already lost everyone he’d ever loved. Pietro hugged himself, suddenly miserable.

“Hey, hey buddy! Don’t be sad! Australians are great people!” Bruce gripped Pietro’s shoulders for emphasis. “And maybe they won’t even be from Australia! They could be from South Africa, or Ireland…”

Pietro nodded and forced himself to smile. “The people who has the marks of the soul. They are nice?” 

“Sometimes,” Bruce said, then winced at Pietro’s expression. “Mostly?” 

“I want America,” Pietro whimpered. He couldn’t help it. He’d lost so many things because of the Sokovian Uprising. His home, his friends; his family. He wanted— _he needed_ —his soulmate to be someone he could love, and he wanted to find them in America so he could be with Bruce. He couldn’t bear to lose this dream, too. 

“I’m really sorry,” Bruce said softly, “but beyond the fact that he or she speaks enough English to be polite, there’s no real way to tell where they might be from. I wish there was, but…”

Pietro raised his head. He knew a way. “You have map?”

“What?” 

“Map!” Pietro repeated, excitement replacing the despair in his chest. He remembered his mother telling him and Wanda this, and his father showing them how it worked using his soulmark; the words given to him by their mother. No matter how Wanda and Pietro moved the map while their father’s eyes had been closed, his finger always landed on Sokovia. “If you have map, you find marks of soul person!” 

“Really? Is that a Sokovian thing? Because I’ve never heard—here’s one!” Bruce grabbed a magazine that had been left on a chair in the tiny waiting area. “It’s an in-flight magazine I took with me on my flight over, but it should have a—here!” He turned the page over to show Pietro a map of the world. The map was very small, but Pietro wasn’t going to complain.

He shut his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he whispered, and jabbed his finger at the map. He opened his eyes again. 

“Does this really work?” Bruce asked. “Because if it does, your soulmate is actually in America.” 

Pietro’s smile was so wide his face hurt. His finger was solidly in the middle of the United States. “Thank you!” 

“You’re welcome,” Bruce smiled back.

Pietro’s eyes widened. 

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Bruce held out his hands. “I’m not your soulmate. Firstly, I’m almost thirty and you’re thirteen. Secondly, my soulmate…well, let’s just say I’m one hundred percent sure you’re not them. Thirdly, not nearly our first words to each other and, I hate to break it to you, kid, but once you get to America? You’re going to hear ‘you’re welcome’ a lot—well, unless you go to the South where they just say ‘uh huh,’ which I’ve never understood—but yes, a lot.” 

Pietro’s eyes were still wide, but now with joy instead of shock. “I go to America?”

“Of course you will,” Bruce said. “How else are you going to meet your soulmate?”

* * *

“What are you doing?”

Pietro looked up from where he was tying his sneakers. “I am going to work.”

“Work?” Bruce said. “But you told me you quit the courier job.” 

“No.” Pietro stood as he finished tying his second shoe. “ _You_ told me to quit the courier job. I told you that I was not.”

Bruce was still standing in the doorway of their shared apartment in Brooklyn, keys in his hand and his ID card from Maria Stark Memorial Hospital, around his neck. “But you’re planning on going to summer school to improve your math grades so you can transfer into Medical Sciences at NYU. You won’t have time to work.” 

Pietro rolled his eyes. “No, _you_ were planning on me going to summer school. My plan is very different!” 

“It can’t be,” Bruce said, perplexed. “We talked about this—“

“No!” Pietro’s temper flared. “We did _not_ talk about this! It is always ‘Pietro you will do this! Pietro you will do that!’ Well it is _not_ what I want to do!”

Bruce looked startled. “But you’re starting university in the fall.”

Pietro curled up his lip. “I am _not!_ ”

“You’re not going to university? But—but what are you going to do instead?”

“I’m going to find Wanda!” Pietro shouted. “That is what I’m going to do!” 

“But why does that mean you can’t go to university?” Bruce said, still confused. “We can contact the Red Cross again, see if they’ve had any—“

“We’ve contacted them every six months since I came to America!” Pietro was still shouting. “They haven’t found her! They haven’t found _anything!_ ”

“We just need to give them time—“

“ _It’s been five years!_ ” Pietro hollered. “How much more time do they _need?_ ”

“There were a lot of Sokovian refugees—“

“She’s my _sister!_ And she’s still out there somewhere! Maybe in that hell-hole of a Latverian camp! Or in a camp in Symkaria! Or trapped somewhere in Sokovia with no way to get out—“ 

“You have no evidence that she’s still there—“

“ _She’s my sister!_ ” Pietro slammed his fist down on the small table they had by the door for the mail. It immediately crashed to the floor, sending envelops flying.

“Okay, okay,” Bruce said placatingly. “I get that you’re upset…”

“She’s my sister!” Pietro said again. “And while I have been living here in New York, in the lap of luxury—“

“I wouldn’t exactly call this tiny apartment the lap of luxury,” Bruce muttered.

“—She’s been out there. Alone!” Pietro shook his head. “I need to go find her.”

Bruce took his glasses off and started cleaning them on the hem of his shirt. “I don’t understand. What do you think you can do that the Red Cross can’t?”

“I can go there. I speak Sokovian and Latverian. I can ask questions and actually get answers. I know my way around. I can find her.”

Bruce was staring at him, mouth agape. “You’re planning on _going_ there?”

Pietro looked at Bruce sharply. “Of course.” 

“Oh no, no, no, no!” Bruce shook his head vehemently. “Pietro. You can’t!”

“I can and I will. That is why I am not quitting my job. So I have money to go there. And I need to leave or I will be late.” He moved to go by Bruce and out the door.

“No!” Bruce said sharply. “No. You have no idea how dangerous it is over there right now. You can’t—“

“It’s too dangerous for me, but its fine for my sister?” Pietro challenged him. “She is nineteen as well. And a girl! It is safer for me than for her.”

“You can’t,” Bruce repeated as if Pietro hadn’t spoken. He put his glasses back on. “You’ll be conscripted into the army the second you cross into Sokovia, and Symkeria’s government is at war with at least _two_ rebel factions, and if that’s not bad enough, Latveria is ruled by a dictator who’s a megalomaniac and an international terrorist—“

“ _I don’t care!_ ” Pietro screamed at him. “I don’t care if I have to dodge bullets! _I am going to find my sister!_ ”

Bruce crossed his arms. “No, Pietro. I did _not_ rescue you from that refugee camp and bring you to the States just so you could throw it away now." 

“You’re not my father! You’re not even my family! My _real_ family died in the bombing! My mother, my father! Dead in front of my eyes! It was only me and Wanda—" Pietro's voice broke and he looked away.

“Look,” Bruce said softly. “I know how much Wanda means to you, and we’ll figure out a way to find her. I promise! But you can’t go back there. It’s not safe.”

Pietro was shaking his head even before Bruce had finished speaking. “No, Bruce. I need to find my sister.”

“But what about finding your soulmate?” Bruce asked desperately. “You haven’t found her yet. How can you leave before finding her?” 

Pietro glanced down to his left palm, but his soulmarks were covered by the shooting gloves he wore while riding his bike. He felt a small pang of longing at Bruce’s words. He’d been in the U.S. for almost six years and he’d heard ‘you’re welcome’ so often that he’d given up hope of ever finding the woman who’s voice had marked his skin. “She can wait.”

“Pietro!” Bruce exclaimed. “Enough with this! You’re not going and that’s final!”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“I think I am!” Bruce spat. “My house, my rules! You live here, you follow them, understand! And I say you’re going to summer school and then going to university and that’s _final!_ ” 

“Your house?” Pietro narrowed his eyes. “Your rules?”

“That’s what I said.” 

“Then the easiest thing is for me to move out,” Pietro stepped over the table on the floor and grabbed his bike from where it was leaning against the wall. “I will come back for my things.” He pushed past Bruce out into the hallway. He was cringing inside at what he’d just done and he had to force himself to not immediately take the words back. He loved Bruce like an older brother, and after his parents died, their little shared apartment was the happiest place that Pietro had ever lived. But Wanda was out there, somewhere. He had to go find her.

“Pietro! Wait!” Bruce called after him, but Pietro had already slipped into the elevator and was gone.

* * *

“Oh my God, are those _packages?_ ”

Skye looked up from her computer. “James wanted me to send the new prosthetic samples over to Maria Stark Memorial.” 

Becca made a face. “Don’t call him ‘James.’ He prefers Bucky anyway.” She perched herself on the edge of the desk of Skye’s cubicle and then handed her a cup of lavender bubble tea. The liquid was an attractive light purple and Skye admired it for a moment before saying thanks. She took a sip. The flavour was sweet and a little chemically, but she adored the colour. 

“You call him Bucky?”

“Yep,” Becca took a sip of her own peach-flavoured tea. “For his middle name, Buchanan. It’s been his nickname since we were babies.” 

Skye laughed. “Buchanan! Like that horrible president?”

“The very one. My parents were Romanian. They wanted to give us really American names.” She shrugged. 

“I know the feeling. My parents called me ‘Daisy.’ My mom thought it sounded sweet.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I like Skye better, too. It suits you.” Becca took a sip of her drink then frowned. "But your email still says Daisy Johnson."

Skye shrugged. "Anyone who needs me knows how to find me." 

"You should change it." 

"I should," Skye said. "But Skye's not actually my real name. Maybe they won't change it?" 

"HR will change it," Becca said with authority. "It doesn't matter if it's your legal name or not. This is Stark Industries. Everyone is pretty laid back."

"That's why I'm here in my jeans and t-shirt," Skye grinned as she turned back to her computer. She really was enjoying her new job at Stark Industries, especially because of how employee-friendly the company was, and meeting Becca was definitely one of the bigger perks. Becca was lighthearted and fun and her background in social sciences brought a whole different layer to the work that was refreshingly different from her tech-heavy classes in school. They’d been paired together in the ‘Aiding the Differently Abled’ Department to create an algorithm that would eventually live in all StarkPhones and would be able to both translate and then read text to the user nearly instantaneously. 

To do that properly required more than just Skye’s understanding of code. Becca’s linguistic skills were invaluable in helping Skye develop the program. They’d become a great team and even better friends. 

“Skye,” Becca said after a few moments filled only with the sound of Skye typing. “Why are you working?”

“Because Doctor Stark wants to introduce this new program as part of the Christmas upgrades and it’s already August?”

“But I don’t want to work,” Becca whined. “I want to talk about Sam!”

Skye rolled her eyes. Sam was Becca’s soulmate and according to Becca they’d been together since July of the previous year when they’d found each other despite the odds against it and blah blah blah. “You love him. He’s fantastic. He’s your soulmate. The end.” 

Becca crossed her arms. Tilting her drink precariously over Skye’s keyboard. “Wow.” 

Skye shrugged. “I’m just not that into soulmates, okay?”

“But you have a soulmark on your wrist! How can you not be into them? How is that even possible?”

"Because thank you is, like, one of the most common phrases in English and I've heard it probably a billion times." She shrugged. "I just don't think soulmarks are all they're cracked up to be."

“You’ll change your mind when you meet them,” Becca said decisively. “Oh, and speaking of meeting—we need to talk about your packages!”

“Okay,” Skye sat back from her computer, relieved at the change of subject. “Packages. Totally exciting. I’m all ears.”

“No, you’re going to be all _eyes_ ” Becca grinned broadly. She checked her watch. “Oh, I have such perfect timing. We need to bring those packages to Rose right now.” 

“But doesn’t our internal mail guy come by and grab—“

“No, _we_ need to bring them to Rose right now!” Becca grabbed her wrist and tugged her out of her chair. “Come on! And bring your drink.” 

“Okay,” Skye said sceptically. Gently she disengaged her wrist from Becca’s grip and picked up the two packages, tucking them under her arm so she could also take her tea. Surreptitiously she wiped her wrist against her pant leg. Her soulmark had been tingling all morning and Becca’s touch hadn’t helped. _Thank you,_ she read to herself as she followed behind. Like she just told Becca, she'd heard those words way too often since she first got her soulmarks six years ago at sixteen, but they’d never been spoken by her soulmate. 

She grimaced. Just another reminder that soulmarks didn't mean anything. 

“Rose!” Becca exclaimed as they arrived at the aggressively modern entry way of Stark Industries. “Look! I brought Skye, and _packages!_ ”

Rose sniffed. “Rebecca Barnes. Don’t you realize you’re objectifying that young man? I thought you were a feminist.” She brushed a lock of red curls over her shoulder. 

“I know I’m objectifying him.” Becca raised her cup. “That’s why I brought peach flavour!”

“That makes no sense,” Skye said as Rose rolled her eyes. 

“Peach?” Becca said. “Like ‘you’re a peach?’” She looked between Rose and Skye. “Anyone?”

“I think honey flavour would’ve worked better,” Skye said. “You know, like, ‘hey, honey?’”

“Peach is much more objectifying.” 

Rose shook her head at Becca. “You’re not helping yourself at all.” 

Becca grinned at her. “Oh yes I am. I’m helping myself to objectifying the courier.” She slid onto Rose’s desk and took on a seductive pose. “Do you think this will work? Don’t tell Sam.”

Skye and Rose laughed. “No worries,” Skye said. “I promise I won’t tell your actual peach.”

“I doubt Sam would be worried anyway,” Rose said to Skye. “This courier is good-looking, but he’s young. Like, _very_ young.” 

Skye slid a skeptical glance at Becca. “Like how young?”

“Like we’re probably breaking the law just by looking at—oh, oh! Here he comes!” Becca smacked Skye’s arm to get her to look towards the main entrance. Skye looked. Her jaw fell open.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. 

“I know, right?” Becca breathed. 

He was possibly the best-looking man Skye had ever seen. 

He was an easy six feet tall with a strong, lean body. Every muscle of his shoulders and arms was tight and well-defined and well-displayed in the close-fitting cycling shirt he wore. It was pulled up to his elbows in deference to the summer heat, showing off strong forearms. His long, muscular legs were bare underneath baggy cargo shorts, and all his exposed skin was tanned, making Skye wonder where his tan might actually stop. 

He had curly red-brown hair, long enough to fall appealingly over his forehead and just past his ears, mussed from the wind. His nose was perfect; his jaw was strong and dusted with red stubble and his cheekbones were sharp enough to cut herself on. His lips were sensual and looked like they were made for kissing. But his eyes were clearly his best feature. They were heavy-lidded and intensely sultry and the same deep blue-green as a Mediterranean ocean. Or at least she’d immediately thought of an ocean when she looked at him, because Skye suddenly felt like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Hello, Rose,” he said as he sauntered up to the counter. “What do you have for me to today?” His voice was deep and tinged with some kind of accent that immediately sent shivers down Skye’s spine, right to her wrist. 

_My wrist?_ She looked down at her soulmarks, wondering why they felt like something cool was being rubbed against her skin. 

“Hello, Pietro.” Rose smiled at him. “The usual document packet for the lawyers, a new one for the patent office, and whatever these young ladies have brought for you.” 

“Hi, Pietro,” Becca simpered at him. “How’s school?”

One side of Pietro’s mouth curved up. “I graduated in June. So it’s great.”

Becca gave a light, tinkling sound completely different from the way she normally laughed. “And then off to University in the fall?”

Skye noticed how Pietro’s expression closed off at Becca’s question. “Maybe later,” he hedged. “I have something I must do first.”

 _Graduated in June?_ Skye thought. _He means high school!_ Her cheeks burned. No matter how physically large he was, there was no way he could be more than seventeen or eighteen years old. She’d totally been ogling a _child._

“What could be more important than going to University?” Becca asked, clearly losing any tact in the presence of this stunning creature. “A smart boy like you—“

“University will always be there,” Rose interrupted. She looked at Skye. “If you have something for Pietro, give it to him now. He’s on a tight schedule.” 

All of Pietro’s attention suddenly focussed on her, and it was kind of like looking directly at the sun. Skye’s mouth suddenly felt too dry to speak and all thoughts immediately drained from her head. Wordlessly she handed him one of the packages. 

He took it, his incredible ocean-blue eyes meeting hers. His hands were covered with shooting gloves but their fingers still brushed. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

“You’re welcome,” Skye said in the same moment that her soulmark flared with sensation. Her eyes widened in surprise—a look that was completely mirrored in Pietro’s eyes as he stared at her. 

It was like time stopped completely. They gazed into each other’s eyes, their fingertips still touching. 

“Skye?” Becca said. 

The spell broke. 

“I—I must go,” Pietro stammered and practically fled out of the building before Skye could even shut her mouth. 

“That’s strange.” Rose frowned. “Pietro’s usually a bit more social than that.” 

“Maybe he really is on a tight schedule,” Becca said, but she was looking shrewdly at Skye. 

Skye licked her lips, her mind reeling from what just happened. Her soulmark was still tingling. Her _soulmark._ “I…”

“You forgot your other package!” Rose exclaimed. “If you’re quick you might catch him!”

Skye looked where Rose was pointing. She had left one of the packages on the desk. The important one, with the prototypes for Maria Stark Memorial. She knew James—Bucky—wouldn’t be happy with her if they didn’t get there today. 

She grabbed the package and careened out the door. She arrived on the sidewalk just in time to see the courier hop on his bike and speed away, messenger bag strapped to his back. 

“Pietro!” She shouted after him. 

He must have heard, because he turned to look back towards her. 

Which was exactly the moment that a taxi's door opened right in front of him. Pietro had no chance to even try to swerve out of the way. He was launched off his bike by the impact.

Skye watched in horror as her soulmate landed hard on the street, slamming down onto the pavement and then skidding to a halt. He was lying on his side, unmoving. The package that might have just cost Pietro his life slipped quietly out of her hands.

* * *

Everything hurt.

Someone was touching him. He could feel their hands moving systematically over his body, down one side and then the other. The sensation wasn't pleasant, and then they touched his left arm and his eyes flew open as he screamed, jerking away as _painpainPAIN!_ roared through his head.

His head. Something was holding his head and he couldn't move it. He was trapped and in pain and the _apartment had fallen down and his parents were dead and Wanda--_

“Keep him still!” someone ordered. 

“He’s frightened!” someone else said. That someone started rubbing his cheeks with their thumbs. “It’s okay,” they crooned to him. “You’re okay. I promise.” 

He blinked and looked up, right into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. They were so dark they looked almost black, shining like polished stones. 

It was the girl from Stark Industries. The one with the packages. 

His soulmate. 

All the events of the past few minutes rushed back: He’d hit a taxi and flipped off his bike, that was why he was in pain. There was a EMT assessing his injuries. He wasn’t in the bombed-out apartment in Sokovia. He was in America. He was safe. The tension inside him left all at once.

“Thank you,” he croaked. 

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, and then she was forced to move away as another EMT and a firefighter put a plastic collar around his neck. They rolled him onto a backboard and efficiently tied him down, and then strapped him onto a stretcher. He couldn’t move. 

It was very uncomfortable. 

“You okay, buddy?” one of the firefighters asked. The sun was now shining directly into his eyes and Pietro was forced to squeeze them shut against the glare. 

“He can’t see,” his soulmate said. She put her hand above his eyes to shield them and he sighed in relief. 

He felt himself get lifted up and then he was staring at the completely uninspiring ceiling of an ambulance. 

“Gonna be a quick ride, buddy,” the firefighter, who apparently was also a EMT, said as he hopped inside. “Come on,” he said to someone still outside, and a second later his soulmate climbed up into the back of the ambulance. He sighed in relief again. 

“But I don't really know him—“ she protested, but went and sat in the seat just behind Pietro’s head. He couldn’t really see her, but she put her hand on his shoulder. Everything still hurt, but for some reason it hurt less when she was there.

“My name’s Scott and I’ll be your EMT for this afternoon,” The firefighter said. He grinned broadly. “So, now that you’re no longer unconscious on the pavement, I’ve got some questions for you.” He pulled out some kind of form and a pen. “Name?”

“Pietro Maximoff.” 

Scott raised his eyebrows. “That with an ‘I’ or an ‘e’?”

“I,” both Pietro and the woman said at the same time. She leaned over him so he could see her face and grinned. 

He grinned back, and then grimaced. His left arm hurt like hell. 

“I know, buddy,” Scott said compassionately. “You’ve broken your arm real good there. Bone’s poking through and everything. They’ll give you something for the pain at the hospital. Date of birth?”

Pietro told him and he saw the woman wince. 

“I’m nineteen.” Pietro bristled. He hated it when people thought he was just a child. 

“I did the math.” Scott grinned. He listed off a few more questions, about allergies and medical history.

“I broke my arm before,” Pietro said through gritted teeth. He remembered when he broke his arm for the first time. The agony of this new break dulled in comparison to the terror of that moment; when he’d cried out for Wanda and then saw her lying beside him, her face covered in blood…He squeezed his eyes shut against the image. 

Scott winced in sympathy. “That’s rough. What happened that first time? Another bicycling accident?”

“It was a bomb,” Pietro said tersely. 

He could feel the woman go perfectly still behind him. Scott’s mouth was open in surprise and he was blinking. “A bomb?”

“Yes. A bomb. In Sokovia. I was ten,” Pietro continued in the same terse tone. He hated talking about Sokovia. Not even Bruce had heard the whole story of that horrific time. “Next question?”

“I’m so sorry,” his soulmate whispered. She moved her hand so her thumb was brushing against the edge of his shoulder, soothing and distracting all at once. 

_Soulmate._ He smiled at the thought, despite how much he hurt from both his arm and the memories. He’d been waiting so long to meet her. 

“Whoa, Okay.” Scott scraped his hand through his hair. “Not quite the answer I was expecting, but I'll put it on the form.” 

Pietro moved his shoulders to shrug but then stopped. His arm fucking _hurt._

She noticed. “Can’t you give him something for pain now?”

“Sorry. I’m an EMT, not a paramedic. The only thing I have for pain is aspirin.”

“But his arm’s broken!” 

“I know.” Scott winced sympathetically, “and I promise my partner’s driving us to the hospital as fast as possible. But I got nothing.”

“It’s okay,” Pietro croaked. “I am fine.” 

Scott bit his lip. “Can I ask more questions?”

Pietro nodded. 

“Perfect. Next of kin?”

Pietro took a breath. Bruce was his guardian but he hadn’t spoken to Bruce since he moved out. Wanda was his next-of-kin but he didn’t know where she was. He was alone.

He cleared his throat. “There is no one.”

The woman gasped softly. 

“No one?” Scott repeated. “Really?” He looked at the woman. “But your soulmate?”

Pietro tried to look at her but she’d moved back so he couldn’t see her face. “We’ve just met.” 

“Yeah. I got that.” Scott shook his head. “That’s gotta be one of the worst ways I’ve heard to meet your soulmate. Right before they get smoked by a car.”

Pietro couldn’t disagree with that. 

Scott was still looking at him. “Can I put her down?”

“No!” Pietro said immediately. He said it with the same instinct that had caused him to run out of Stark Industries just before. It was the same instinct that had caused him to tell Bruce that his soulmate ‘could wait.’ Having a soulmate meant he wouldn’t be able to go back to Europe to find Wanda. There was no way that his soulmate would let him travel to such dangerous countries, even if it was to find his sister. He was sure soulmates were protective like that. Like Bruce, only worse. He couldn’t be with his soulmate if it meant he couldn’t find Wanda. 

Scott was looking at him, his expression almost comical in his its disbelief. “Whoa, dude! Harsh.”

“It’s alright,” the woman said softly, but she stopped stroking Pietro's shoulder with her thumb.

Pietro’s heart broke just a little from the sound of her voice. “It just—we just met,” he finished lamely. 

“Sure.” Scott’s expression was still deeply skeptical. “No soulmate as next of kin.” He made an elaborate show of x-ing out a box. “I hope my daughter’s soulmate never treats her like that,” he muttered.

“I have no one,” Pietro said again, just to make a point. She took her hand off his shoulder. 

It was a little movement, but his shoulder was cold where her hand had been, and losing her warmth felt like he’d lost something infinitely precious. That idea hurt worse than hitting the pavement ever had.

* * *

“I will be fired.” 

Skye looked up from her phone at her soulmate’s— _Pietro’s_ —voice. He was reclining on a bed in one of the curtained off bays in the emergency department, The backboard and neck brace had been removed relatively quickly after he'd received some sort of assessment by a physician. Then he'd been taken for an x-ray. It'd been torturous to watch as the technician manipulated Pietro’s arm to get the right angle, all without any kind of pain medication. Pietro had been incredibly stoic, barely reacting at all. Skye didn’t know if she should be horrified or impressed. Then again, the first time his arm had been broken it’d been done by a bomb. Maybe everything else paled in comparison.

She’d wanted to ask how it happened, and how he’d survived. But everything about Pietro seemed like a big ‘no-go’ zone, so she’d just sat down with her phone and kept quiet. She’d been very relieved when Steve, their big, blond nurse, had come in and injected a dose of pain medication directly into his shoulder, and how quickly Pietro had relaxed afterwards. Steve didn’t say much against his colleagues, but his whole demeanour kind of let Skye know how very unimpressed Steve was that Pietro had gone for an x-ray without any medication. 

Steve had promised to go find a doctor to look at Pietro’s arm. No one had been back since.

“Fire you? You got doored by a taxi,” Skye said. “Why would they fire you?”

“Because I did not make my deliveries on time. They had to send someone else to get my bag. That will cost them money. So I will be fired.” He shrugged.

“They can’t do that!” Skye protested. “It wasn’t your fault—“

Pietro looked at her, his gaze sharp despite the pain medication. “I am a nineteen year-old kid being paid under-the-table to deliver packages on a bicycle. My boss will not care if it was my fault or not.”

“You’re not a kid,” was all Skye could think of to say. But he was right. He was painfully young, and desperately underemployed. He apparently had no plans to go to university any time soon, either, which didn’t do much for his future employment prospects. She'd always valued education and the idea that her soulmate didn't was unsettling. 

“No, I am not a kid.” Pietro’s words shook Skye out of her depressing thoughts. “I am an adult and I can do anything in America but drink alcohol.” He shrugged. “Well, _legally._ But that is not the way people are thinking of me.” 

“I think of you as an adult.” Skye thought of his lean, strong body and swallowed. There was nothing childish about how he looked at all.

There must have been something in her stare because his gaze heated as he looked at her, his sea-coloured eyes turning intensely sensual. She shivered and stood, rubbing her soulmark with her hand. 

“Your soulmark,” he said softly. “May I see?”

She nodded and went over to the side of the bed, turning her right hand so her inner forearm was displayed. “Here.” 

He looked at it, then looked up at her, his face split by a broad smile. “That is my writing!”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s usually how it works. Where are mine?” She bit her lip.

“On my left palm,” he said. He tried to move his hand but realized it was swathed in bandages. He grimaced in pain. “I’m sorry. My arm—“

“It’s okay.” Almost against her will she reached out and brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. It was the fourth time she’d touched him, and like every other time she felt their contact skate along her soulmark. As if she needed any more proof. 

His eyes had flecks of gold around the pupil. Like sun reflecting off water. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. 

She smiled into his eyes. Somehow her brushing his hair off his face had ended up with her carding her hand through his hair, the curls clinging gently to her fingers. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“What’s your name?”

“Skye.” 

He smiled. "It suits you." 

Her cheeks heated from the warmth in his gaze. She moved her hands from stroking his hair to the side of his face. His red-gold stubble was rough against her palm. She never wanted to stop touching him. She wanted to touch him everywhere.

 _Soulmate,_ she thought. This gorgeous creature was her soulmate. It made her smile. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I cannot be your soulmate,” he said as if he’d just read her mind. “I’m sorry.” 

Instinctively Skye dropped her hand and took a step back. It was amazing how much that hurt. She cursed herself for forgetting what he’d said earlier, for still feeling upset by it. “I kinda got that impression in the ambulance,” she tried to keep her voice light. “You know, when you told the EMT that you were alone even though I was sitting right there?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I am sorry that I hurt you. But I cannot have a soulmate now. It’s impossible. I’m sorry.”

He was rejecting her. They’d just found each other and he was rejecting her. Not that he was much of catch for her to _care_ , she thought bitterly. Beyond his spectacular looks what did he really have going for him? At least _she_ was educated and had a good job, but clearly that wasn’t good enough for a teenage drop-out like him. “Why?” she asked, and then realized that she really didn’t want to know his answer. “Never mind. It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m really not in a ‘soulmate’ kind of place in my life now, anyway.” 

And she wasn’t. Not really. Not unless it was someone successful and accomplished. Like that guy Grant Ward in accounting. Maybe she should ask him for his number.

“It’s probably time I was leaving anyway," she said as she stepped away from him. "I mean, it’s not like we know each other or anything, so it’s not like I should be sitting by your bedside, comforting you in your hour of need. And me being here is like a gross invasion of your privacy, anyway. So I should go. Yeah. I’ll leave.” She knew she was babbling but she also knew that if she stopped talking she’d probably end up crying. 

And there was no way she was going to do that. Not in front of him.

She reached to pull back the curtain. “I’ll just let that big nurse know I’m leaving,” she said unnecessarily. “Maybe I’ll see you biking up to Stark Industries some time…”

“Wait!” 

She turned towards him, kicking herself for how her heart had immediately launched itself into her mouth.

“It’s Wanda,” he said simply. “I cannot be with you until I find her.” 

Skye’s heart landed in her boots. “Wanda?” she forced herself to smile. “That one ex-girlfriend you couldn’t forget?”  


He frowned at her. “Ex-girlfriend? No. She’s my twin sister.”

* * *

Pietro hadn’t meant to tell Skye about Wanda.

He hadn’t meant to mention his sister at all, actually. The pain of losing her was something he kept close to his chest; a wound only he was allowed to inspect. 

But Skye was his soulmate, and she was going to leave him, and suddenly keeping her with him felt like the most important thing in the world—important enough that he’d told her about Wanda. 

He grimaced. If he’d been so ready to give up his sister to Skye after such a short time, what would he be willing to do when more time had passed? He’d probably forget all about Wanda and his quest to find her. He’d probably do exactly as Bruce asked and stay safe in New York, fooling around with his soulmate. While Wanda suffered and died in some Latverian refugee camp, calling his name. He shuddered. 

“Your sister?” Skye crept closer to his bed, her ebony-eyes wide with surprise. 

“Yes.” He sighed. “I don’t really talk—“

The curtain flew open and the blond nurse came back in.

“Sorry about the delay,” he said to Pietro as he led a shorter man in a lab coat into the alcove. “The ED is really busy today, but I finally found a doctor to look at your x-ray. He’s not really an orthopaedic specialist but he’s one of the best surgeons we have here, so you’re pretty lucky.” 

Pietro felt his eyes widen. “Bruce?” 

“Pietro!” Bruce exclaimed. “Oh my God. What happened?”

Steve was looking between the two of them. “Doctor Banner?”

“It’s okay Steve,” Bruce said. He went over to where Pietro was lying and gently picked up Pietro’s left arm. “Can you please contact Doctor Cho and tell her I need her help in the ED? Tell her it’s an emergency.” Gently he started assessing Pietro’s arm. “Does this hurt?”

“Like a bitch,” Pietro said. “Bruce, why are you here?”

“You know each other?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Bruce said. 

Pietro opened his mouth to say something dismissive, but then Bruce moved his arm _just so_ and he cried out in pain. 

Skye stepped forward, her arms were crossed like if she didn’t have her fists under control she’d come out swinging at the guy who was hurting her soulmate. “Can’t you see that’s hurting him?”

“Sorry,” Bruce said grimly. “But this is a bad break.”

“I’m going to get him some more pain medication,” Steve said. 

“And call Doctor Cho. She if she can check him,” Bruce called after him. He looked back at Pietro, his brown eyes filled with concern. It was an expression Pietro had seen almost every day since he was thirteen years old. “You’ve really done a number. I think you'll need surgery—” 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Skye jumped to his defense. “He got hit by a taxi.” 

Bruce gently put Pietro’s aching arm back on his chest and turned to look at Skye. “And you are?”

Skye glanced at Pietro and he shook his head minutely, holding his breath in hope that she'd understand and wouldn't tell Bruce they were soulmates. 

“I was there when he got hurt,” Skye said and Pietro exhaled in relief. If Bruce knew that Skye was Pietro’s soulmate, he’d make it even more difficult for Pietro to go find Wanda. He flashed Skye a grateful smile. Pointedly, she looked away. 

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely. “Thank you for taking care of him.” He put his hand on Pietro’s shoulder and Pietro couldn’t help but relax at Bruce’s touch. He’d been so angry when he’d left, but he’d missed Bruce’s solid presence every day of the three months that they hadn’t been speaking.

Bruce was looking at him. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Pietro said honestly, “but this broken arm changes nothing. I’m going to find Wanda whether you want me to or not.”

Skye’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not just his doctor, are you?” 

“No.” Bruce shook his head, never taking his eyes off Pietro. “I'm his guardian.”

* * *

Becca and her brother was waiting for her when Skye stumbled back into the office two hours later.

“Oh my God!” Becca immediately moved Skye’s desk chair so she could sit down easier. “You look like you’re the one who got hit by a car. Why are you back here?”

“Yeah.” Bucky frowned at her. He was leaning his hip against the edge of Skye’s desk, his metal arm crossed over his flesh one. “I thought you got my text telling you just to go home.”

“I did.” Skye blinked, looking back and forth between Becca and Bucky. They were both looking at her with nearly identical expressions of concern. “I came back for your package. I dropped it…“ She started to rise. 

“It’s okay.” Bucky motioned for her to stay put. “Rose grabbed it and Doctor Stark’s going to check the samples and then send it out tomorrow.”

“Doctor Stark knows I dropped his package?"

“It’s okay,” Bucky repeated. “Doctor Stark knows what happened and he’s not upset. I think he’s going to cover the guy’s hospital bills since he was hurt on our watch.”

“Oh thank God.” Skye sagged a bit. She hadn’t asked, but she couldn’t imagine that there was any way Pietro could’ve handled the costs of his medical care. It was one less thing for her soulmate to worry about.

Her soulmate. Who had gotten hit by a taxi and then rejected her. She took a deep breath against the new rush of despair that thought evoked.

Bucky and Becca were still staring at her, still with the same concerned expressions.

She touched her hair and tried to smile. “Do I look that bad?”

“You look like you’re in shock,” Bucky said. "Like your soulmate just got doored by a taxi." Then he ran his flesh hand through his hair. He was clearly agitated. “Jesus Christ!”

“Hush,” Becca admonished him. “This is no time for you to be triggered by your own sad history.” She sat down on Skye’s desk and took both of Skye’s hands in her own. “The courier is your soulmate, right? I thought he was when you two met.”

Skye swallowed. “Yeah. His thank you was the right one. After all this time, he said the right thank you.” She laughed, but she could hear how watery it was.

“He’s going to be okay.” Becca squeezed her hands. “He’s young and healthy. He’ll be fine.”

Skye nodded. “He broke his arm.”

“How bad? Is he going to lose it?”

Becca shot her brother a look. “This is not about you.” 

“Not bad,” Skye said to Bucky. “But he’ll probably need surgery. The doctor—who actually is his guardian—came in to tell him that and then I—I kind of left.”

Bucky and Becca shot each other puzzled looks. “You left?” Bucky said. “But he’s hurt—“

“Not about you!” Becca said sharply to her brother. “I know the idea of Pietro breaking his arm is making you think about a lot of bad things, but can we please focus on Skye and her soulmate?”

“Sorry,” Bucky muttered. He turned away from them, arms wrapped around his waist. 

“So, why didn’t you stay?” Becca asked gently. “He must have wanted you there.” 

“He didn’t want me there,” Skye said. 

“But you’re his soulmate—“ 

“He doesn’t want to be my soulmate!” Skye shouted. It was humiliating to have to say it out loud. Especially to Becca and Bucky, whose soulmates had wanted to be with them from the very beginning. “But it's okay,” Skye continued, trying to salvage what was left of her pride. “It totally makes sense, actually. Because he’s _way_ too young for me. And he hasn’t even gone to university yet. And then his job is _so_ blue collar—“

“Wait,” Bucky cut off her babbling. “He doesn’t want to be your soulmate? Why not?”

Becca narrowed her eyes. “Has he even _looked_ at you?”

“Yes he’s looked at me.” Skye rolled her eyes. “It’s just—it’s complicated.”

“How can it be complicated? You’re his soulmate!” Bucky looked like he was ready to punch Pietro on her behalf. “How can he just…walk away?”

“Sometimes people have good reasons for not wanting to be with their soulmate right away,” Becca said pointedly to Bucky. “You of all people should know that.”

Bucky scowled at Becca. “This isn’t about me, remember?”

“I wouldn’t have _said_ that if you didn’t keep—“ 

“He said it’s because of his sister,” Skye interrupted the twins’ bickering. “He can’t be with me until he finds her.”

Both Becca and Bucky were looking at her again. “He lost his sister?” Bucky asked. 

“Yeah.” Skye nodded. “But he didn’t tell me the whole story. Actually he didn’t really tell me anything. But I know she’s lost and he’s totally focused on finding her.”

“Holy shit,” Becca said. “So Pietro won’t even consider being with you until he finds his sister?”

"How'd he lose her?" Bucky asked.

Skye shook her head in a vague answer to Bucky's question. She was feeling the same dejection that she felt when Pietro had told her why they couldn’t be together. She forced herself to smile. “But like I said, it’s fine, really. We might be soulmates but we’re not really right for each other—“

Becca waved her hand. “Of course you're right for each other. You're soulmates."

"But—"

"No." Becca cut her off. "It's just about finding his sister. He told you that. So we can fix this.”

“We can?” Bucky asked. 

“Sure,” Becca said. “Pietro can’t be with Skye until he finds his sister. So we help him find his sister and then he and Skye can be together. Easy.” She beamed.

“There are over seven billion people on the planet,” Bucky said. “And Skye just said she doesn’t know anything. How’re you possibly going to find her?”

Becca glared at him. “We’ll find her! You found Steve after you lost him! Clint found Natasha—“

“You’re talking about soulmates!” Bucky exclaimed. “It was simple! We used a map.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was simple…But my point is people can be found. So let’s find her.”

Skye found herself warming to the idea. She wasn’t so sure that finding Wanda would mean that she and Pietro would automatically be together. But finding her sounded like a challenge, and it would certainly make Pietro happy. Not that she cared about making Pietro happy, or anything. It would just be a nice thing to do. She scooted forward and smacked the side of Becca’s leg. “Move, please.” She booted up her computer.

“That’s the spirit!” Becca grinned. She grabbed a chair from the next cubicle and sat down beside Skye. “So, what are you doing?”

“I’m writing down everything I gleaned from what Pietro told the EMT to see if it gives us any search parameters,” Skye explained. “And then I’ll create—“

“—a data-mining algorithm!” Becca finished. “Skye, you’re brilliant!”

“That is pretty brilliant,” Bucky said admiringly. He moved to stand behind his sister. “So what do you know?”

Skye grimaced as she thought about what Pietro had said. The details were sparse, but they’d painted a vivid enough picture of pure terror and unimaginable loss. “When we were in the ambulance, Pietro told the EMT his arm had been broken before. He said it was in Sokovia, from a bomb.”

“Oh my God,” Becca breathed. “He was _bombed?_ ”

“Jesus.” Bucky’s expression was grim. “I bet that was during that Uprising they had. I think it was about ten years ago?”

“That makes sense,” Skye said. “He’s nineteen now, and he said his arm was broken by a bomb when he was ten.”

“Do you think that’s when his sister got lost?” Becca asked. “Maybe he was taken to hospital and she got left behind?”

“Or she was hit by the bomb too,” Bucky’s expression got even darker. He didn’t need to say the rest of his thought.

“She’s not dead,” Skye said with certainty. “I don’t think he’d been this intent on finding her if he thought she was dead.”

“He might not know.” 

“True,” Skye said. 

They all went silent.

“We have to assume she’s alive,” Bucky said quietly. 

“Yes,” Becca said. “Because the alternative is just too horrible to contemplate.” 

Skye winced, thinking of how horrible it would be for Pietro to learn his sister had actually been dead all this time. “Yes. Totally. We’re going to assume she’s alive.” She took a breath. So Wanda—“

“Is that her name?” Becca asked.

“Yes,” Skye said. She remembered the EMT asking how to spell Pietro’s last name, so she typed _Wanda Maximoff/Maxemoff/Maxemov/Maximov_ on the keyboard. “So Wanda is still alive, and we’re assuming they got separated after the bomb hit.” 

Becca reached back blindly and grabbed her brother’s hand. “He hasn’t seen his sister since they were ten." They both looked equally as horrified at the idea of being separated like that.

“I don’t know for sure, but probably. It makes a tragic kind of sense.”

“That’s…that’s awful,” Bucky said, clutching his sister’s hand.

“Yeah,” Skye thinned her lips. 

“But it’s good in a way, too.” 

Skye looked at Becca. “How is that good?”

“Because anytime there’s a war or an uprising or stuff like that, there’s always international agencies, like the UN or _Médecins Sans Frontières_ or the Red Cross that go to help. And for sure they keep records.”

“That’s right!” Skye felt a flicker of excitement at the idea. “There’s no way that there’s not some kind of on-line record of what happened to her!” 

“For sure,” Bucky agreed. “Someone knows what happened to her and probably put it on the web.”

“And all we need to do is find it. And then we’ll find Wanda and reunite her with Pietro, and then Skye and Pietro can live happily ever after!”

Skye couldn’t help but smile at that. She wasn’t sure it’d be as simple as Becca thought, but it’d feel good to help Pietro find his sister. 

“That’s a great idea in theory,” Bucky said. “But won’t all the records be in Sokovian?”

Becca shrugged. “I don’t speak Sokovian, but it’s pretty close to Serbian. I should be fine.” 

Bucky and Skye stared at her. “You speak Serbian?” Bucky said, incredulous.

“Linguistics major, remember?” Becca said smugly. “I chose Serbian as my Slavic language. You can write it using the Roman alphabet. Way easier than having to learn Cyrillic.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky said. “How many languages do you know?”

Becca tilted her head. “Um, I’m basically fluent in French, Spanish, Italian and Romanian—of course—and I can get by in Serbian and German. I can count to ten in Japanese.” She grinned.

“Wow. And here I thought I was the smart one because I did science and engineering.” 

Becca patted his shoulder. “Oh pookie, you were never the smart one.”

Skye laughed, enjoying the siblings. But she couldn’t help thinking about Pietro and all the years he’d been separated from Wanda and how awful that must be. “She’s his twin,” she said softly.

“They’re twins?” Becca said, just as Bucky breathed: “Jesus.” They immediately clasped hands again. 

Bucky cleared his throat. “You’ve got to find her.” 

“Yeah.” Becca was still clutching her brother’s hand. “Twins shouldn’t be apart like that.”

 _Neither should soulmates,_ Skye thought. Pietro might not want her, but helping him find his sister was the right thing to do, no matter how hurt she felt by his choice. Her father had taught her to always do the right thing. She squared her shoulders. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

"Did you stay here all night?"

Skye bolted upright in her chair. "I'm awake!"

Becca laughed. "The keyboard marks on your face might beg to differ. But seriously Skye. Didn't you go home?"

Skye glanced at the time. The clock on her computer screen showed '7:53 AM' in its sterile font. The last time she remembered checking it had been around 4 AM, and she'd only meant to put her head down for a moment. "No?"

Becca laughed again and handed Skye her cup. "Here, I think you need this more than me." 

Skye took the offered cup gratefully and took a sip. She made a face. "This isn't coffee." 

"Nope," Becca said cheerfully as she took the cup back. "Coffee is gross."

"You're gross," Skye said inanely. Becca was in a light-coloured dress covered in bright flowers. She looked fresh and pretty and like she'd actually showered and slept in a bed. Meanwhile Skye was still wearing the t-shirt and jeans she'd put on yesterday morning. Becca wasn't really the gross one.

"You're one to talk." Becca raised one eyebrow as she took a sip of her tea. "So why didn't you go home?"

Skye opened her mouth to explain, but then shut it again. How could she tell Becca, who lived with her soulmate, the blank despair she'd suddenly felt about going home to her tiny little bachelor apartment? "I was really caught up in my work?"

Becca's skeptical look didn’t change, but she slid into the seat beside Skye without comment. "So, what did your all-nighter produce?" 

Skye sighed in relief and she launched into a detailed explanation of how she was developing the algorithm and what her preliminary trials of data-mining had found. 

"But as we suspected, the majority of the documents are in Sokovian," Skye gestured to the folder she'd pulled up on her screen. "And since our translation program isn't finished yet…"

"Say no more, I'll take a look." Becca touched Skye's screen and threw the folder onto her computer with a flick of her fingers, then opened it with a tap. The two women grinned at each other. Stark Tech would never not be cool. 

They both descended into a companionable silence as they started to work. At some point Becca sent Skye to fetch them both beverages and something that Skye could consider breakfast. A few hours after that, Bucky appeared with pizza and settled in beside them.

"I've heard it's going well," he said as he passed Skye a slice on one of the monogrammed plates from the building's cafeteria. 

"Oh yeah?" Skye grinned at him as she took a bite. "Where'd you hear that from?"

"My magical psychic abilities," he said. "Plus a text from Becca." 

"Things are going well," Becca agreed as she nabbed a slice from the box. The biodegradable packaging had 'Stark Pizza' written on it in flowing gold script. "We've actually been able to track Wanda's movements from when her apartment was bombed until she was taken to hospital in Germany." 

Bucky winced. "That…doesn't sound good." 

"It is good," Becca said. "Well, at least in the sense that I understand German much better than Sokovian." When Bucky didn't say anything else she looked up from her computer. "Oh Bucks! It's okay! She's still alive!"

Bucky still looked shaken but he gave Skye a tremulous smile when she met his eyes. "I'm okay. Just bad memories." He swallowed. "I lost my arm after I got hit by a car in France," he said suddenly. "I walked away from my soulmate when we first met, so the Universe punished me by taking my arm." He held up his left hand, indicating the silver fingers. 

"What?" Skye said, aghast.

Bucky told Skye the story of how he and Steve had finally got together, years after they'd first met as children. "You can't abandon your soulmate," Bucky said with finality. "It's against the laws of the Universe. The marks are like a command you have to obey." 

"No!" Becca whirled on him. "That's not true James Buchanan Barnes, and you know it! Losing your arm was an accident. That's all!"

"It _wasn't_ an accident!" Bucky said hotly. "I lost my left arm. My _left_ arm! The one which had my soulmarks on it! It was punishment and you can't tell me otherwise!"

Becca immediately picked up the argument. It was clearly one the twins had had before. Skye wasn't listening, her heart was pounding in her chest. 

She thought back to when she'd last seen Pietro in the hospital, with his left arm covered in a lose dressing from his elbow to nearly the tips of his fingers, concealing his soulmark. He'd broken that arm right after they'd met. When they'd just found each other and he'd literally walked away. She hadn't done anything to stop him. 

She looked down at the writing on her forearm, the _Thank you_ having suddenly changed from benign to menacing. An image of Pietro lying unconscious on the sidewalk flashed through her mind. _Punishment from the Universe._

The twins were still arguing. 

"Guys." Skye cleared her throat. "Guys!" Becca and Bucky turned to look at her. "We need to call the hospital." 

"What?" Bucky said at the same time Becca's eyes grew wide. "Why?"

"Because I only gave Pietro my first name," Skye said. Her voice was tight with panic. "He's my soulmate and he won't know how to find me."

"Okay…" Becca said slowly, obviously reacting to Skye's panicking. "But he can find you. He knows where you work."

"But what if he can't?" Skye said desperately. "What if he's too badly hurt? Or…" _The Universe kills him before he can?_ She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Didn’t you say that you met Pietro's guardian?" Bucky leaned forward. "And he's a doctor that works at Maria Stark?"

"Yes! Yes he is!" Skye wracked her brain for his name. "It's something with a double B. Bruce Bannon? Banat?"

"Banner?" Bucky said. "Do you mean Doctor Bruce _Banner?"_

"Yes!" Skye snapped her fingers. "But how did you—"

"Doctor Bruce Banner is one of the primary researchers on the prosthetics project! I talk to him, like, once a week!"

"It's fate!" Becca lifted up the handset of Skye's desk phone and handed it to her. "Quick, what's his extension at the hospital?"

"Wait, wait!" Skye dropped the phone back into its cradle. Her instant relief at finding a way to contact Pietro was immediately replaced by fear.

Two pair of bright blue eyes turned to look at her, wearing similar expressions of disbelief. 

"Wait?" Bucky repeated. "But Bruce will be able to get you in contact with Pietro no problem." 

"He's your _soulmate_ ," Becca said. "Why don't you want to call?"

Skye's hand was trembling against the smooth plastic of the telephone handset. She immediately put her hand in her lap. Her mind was full of images of Pietro rejecting her in the ambulance, and then again at the hospital. Of Pietro wincing in pain as he had his X-ray taken. Pietro being hit by the taxi and flying through the air…. He'd survived rejecting her the first time, but what if he rejected her again? What would the Universe do to him now? She swallowed against the tightness that had suddenly appeared. "I don't know," she said finally. 

The twins were still staring at her. "You don't know?" Bucky said. 

Becca took her hands. "You're scared," she said quietly. "You don't want to be rejected again." 

That wasn't quite the problem, but it was easier to agree than explain. Skye nodded miserably, her hands still clasped in Becca's. 

"You can't just walk away!" Bucky burst out. He gestured violently at his metal arm with his flesh one. "You _know_ what happens if you walk—"

"Skye's survived being rejected once." Becca glared at her brother. "They both have. She has time to figure out what she wants to do. Stop pressuring her."

"Nothing's changed." Skye gripped Becca's fingers, trying to express the jumble of thoughts in her mind. "It doesn't matter if I know how to find him now or not. His sister's still missing and he doesn't want to be with—with his soulmate until she's found." She dropped her eyes. "Nothing's changed." 

Becca's gaze was so sympathetic it made Skye want to cry. "Oh honey." 

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt," Skye said softly. 

"If you just call Banner—"

"Stop it!" Becca whirled on her brother. "Can't you see she's upset?"

"Fine, alright." Bucky raised his hands in exasperation. "Don't obey the laws of the Universe. Whatever." 

"I never said I wasn’t going to call Banner." Skye didn't want to be the cause of the twins being angry at each other. "I just think I should help him find Wanda first. If we find Wanda…" _He'll want me and the Universe won’t hurt him._ She left the rest of the sentence go unsaid. 

"So find her!" The exasperation was still evident in Bucky's voice. "We've traced Wanda all the way to Germany. Keep looking."

"Yes _boss_." Becca made a face at her brother. 

"Yeah." Skye turned back to her computer. She'd find Wanda and reunite her with Pietro, and then they'd live happily ever after. Unless he rejected her again for a different reason. She bit her lip. 

_At least I can try to keep him alive,_ Skye thought to herself. It would have to be enough.

* * *

He dreamt of Sokovia. 

In his dream he'd been with his parents and Wanda in the kitchen of their apartment in Novi Grad. Just like that night, they'd finished dinner and his parents had sent him and Wanda to do their homework in their rooms. But this time, they didn't have the chance to leave the kitchen before the bomb struck. 

It crashed through the wall like it was made of glass; a black, vicious hulking mass of metal gleaming with menace. 

In his dream, he'd understood immediately what was going to happen. _Run!_ he'd tried to shout, _leave now!_ But his parents had only smiled gently at him and kept up their conversation, Wanda sitting beside them, perfectly content regardless of the bomb on the floor. 

Pietro stood, pulling at his parent's arms, trying to get them to move, to run, to do something, _anything_ that would save their lives. But it was like nothing he said or did was able to reach them. He turned to Wanda, trying to get her to help him, to understand that the bomb was going to explode and everyone was going to die—

But it wasn't Wanda sitting at the table. It was Skye. 

"Pietro, we're soulmates. Don't leave me." 

"Skye!" He was his current age again. "I can't. My sister—" 

The kitchen was suddenly twice its original size, and Skye was now on the opposite side of the room, the bomb still sat ominously in the middle. His parents and sister were nowhere to be seen. 

"Pietro, please!" Skye extended her hands. 

He was drawn towards her, like a compass pointing north. His soulmate.

From somewhere far away he heard his sister call him. Her voice was young and panicked and he stopped in his tracks, desperate to locate her. "Wanda?" 

The bomb started making a ticking sound. 

"Pietro?" Skye was still reaching for him. "Don't you want me?"

"I do!" Pietro exclaimed, "I do. So much! But I need to save my sister."

"I'll help you!" Skye said urgently. "I'm here and we'll find her together." 

Wanda's voice grew more urgent, calling his name over and over. "I want to be with you, I do! I just need to find her first."

Skye dropped her hands. "Then I guess you'll lose us both."

The bomb exploded, hurling Pietro into consciousness. He woke with a start, his grunt of fear and despair still sounding in his ears. 

He lay in bed, feeling the sweat cooling on his forehead; the ache of his left arm in its partial cast; the harsh pounding of his heart in his chest. 

He took a deep breath, then another, trying to centre himself back in the world and away from the fresh terror of his dream. He focused on the shine of the cars' headlights through his window as they passed on the street below; the soft sounds of traffic and the familiar creaking of the second-floor apartment in the big house that Pietro and Bruce called home. 

It felt like forever, but his machine-gun heartbeat finally slowed to something restful and he felt like he could actually get air all the way to the bottom of his lungs. 

Pietro closed his eyes against the twisting stab of pain that thinking about his nightmare evoked. It'd been a while since he'd dreamed of the night his parents had died and he'd lost Wanda but the horror and crushing anguish felt exactly the same.

In the real event, the bomb had exploded immediately, obliterating any trace of his parents and most of the apartment. He'd woken up, half-under a pile of debris that used to be his home, he was stunned and deafened, but his only real injury had been his broken wrist.

Wanda, on the other hand…

He shook his head to clear the horrible image. No matter how awful his dream had been, it would never match with the reality of what he'd lived through, or how much he'd lost. 

_You'll lose us both,_ Skye had said in his dream, and he shuddered. He went to rub the soulmark on his palm, but his hand hit his cast instead. It made him immediately think of Skye and how much she'd helped him when he'd been injured over a week ago. For a brief moment the ache of not being with Wanda had actually lessened. For a moment he hadn't felt so alone. 

_I don't want to lose her._ The thought was as startling as it was real. He wanted to be with Skye. _Needed_ to. There was no reason to think that she's prevent him from finding his sister. She was his soulmate after all; she should understand his need to find Wanda better than anyone. He reached for his phone on his bedside table to text her. 

"Fuck." Pietro let his head fall forward. He'd rejected her. Thoroughly and completely with no mistaking his intentions. He'd never gotten her phone number. He didn't even know her last name.

"Fuck!" Pietro swore again and dropped back onto his bed. He had no idea how to find her.

* * *

"Fuck." Skye collapsed onto her desk.

Becca looked up from where she was researching commonalities in romance languages for their translation program. "That's not a happy sound." 

"Because I'm not happy," Skye mumbled against her arm. 

Becca sighed and turned towards her, one eyebrow raised. "Soulmate problems?"

Skye made a face. "I haven't seen him in over a week." _And I'll probably never see him again,_ her brain helpfully supplied. "No, it's his sister actually. Or really his lack thereof." 

"That's why you're making that algorithm." Becca gestured at Skye's screen with the peach bubble tea she was holding. "To fix that lack." 

"I know," Skye said with a whine. She sat up, tilting back in her extremely comfortable Stark-designed chair so that she could stare at the ceiling. "But it's not working!"

Becca made a quizzical face. "But I thought it was working great. You'd traced her all the way to Germany." 

"Yeah, but now she's gone." Skye pointed accusingly at her computer. "It's like she got to Germany, and then just—disappeared." 

"People don't just disappear." Becca scooted her chair over so that she could see Skye's screen. She maneuvered in front of Skye's keyboard. "Let me see." 

Skye moved her chair back, hands raised. "It's all yours." 

Becca started flipping through the documents on Skye's computer, focussing on one in particular. "Huh." 

"Huh?"

"There's a strange discrepancy in the way that…" She looked closer at the screen. "I can't tell if that's _nahmen_ or _Nahmen_ …" 

"Huh?" Skye asked again.

"One means 'took' and the other means 'names,' but they're spelled the same. However in this context—" Becca shook her head. "I don't understand what they're saying here." 

"Still not really getting it."

Becca raised her hand to shush her. "So did you _take_ her or _name_ her?" she muttered. 

Skye got up from her chair with a sigh. Becca was in the zone and she probably wasn't going to get her computer back for a while. "I'm just gonna get myself a drink. Want anything?"

"Sure," Becca said vaguely. 

Skye rolled her eyes. "Unless you say different I'm getting you another peach bubble-tea." 

"Sure," Becca said again.

"Peach it is." Skye grabbed her purse and headed out.

She walked through the corridor, out the crisp glass doors to the main lobby. While her office didn't have a view of any kind, Skye certainly didn't mind not having to ride the elevator to the more luxurious offices of Stark Tower. Rumour had it that there were even living quarters further up the building, and Skye believed it. Dr. Stark was there so often he probably just lived there as well. 

Skye turned to say 'hello' to Rose on her way out the doors, but stopped herself. There was a perky blonde woman sitting in Rose's seat who Skye didn’t know. Then she remembered that Rose had told her she was going on a two-week vacation to Italy with her gorgeous Italian soulmate. The blonde woman was probably someone else's assistant who'd been asked to cover while Rose was gone. 

Skye gave a half-wave as she went through the doors, but the women was doing something with the papers on her desk and didn't notice. 

Skye stepped out into a beautiful August afternoon, hot and bright and full of sun and colour. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell of downtown New York in the summer: exhaust, baking, flowers, people and the heat as it seeped into everything. The sidewalk was crowded as usual, but she was used to the ebb and flow of humanity that made up the rhythm of New York. Damn but she loved the city.

Turning right, she headed towards the little bubble tea shop that Becca loved so much. The bell tinkled jovially when she entered. 

The young woman behind the counter greeted her with a smile. "What would you like?"

"A lovely lavender bubble tea with tapioca, and a—" she scanned the menu and frowned. "I thought you had peach flavour?"

"Oh we do," the young woman said quickly, "We just changed our menu. I can get it for you."

The woman started making the drinks as Skye scanned the menu again. They had changed all the names of the drinks. Where they used to start with adjectives, such as 'lovely lavender' or 'perfect peach,' they'd switched the noun with the adjective. 'Perfect peach' was now 'peach perfection,' and 'lovely lavender' had become 'lavender love.'

"You switched the names," Skye said as she paid for her drinks and punctured the plastic film over the cups with the pointed ends of the colourful fat straws.

"Yes," the young woman said. "It makes it easier for customers to find them." 

Skye dropped her change into the tip jar with a smile and went back out onto the street, sipping her drink and thinking about what the woman had said. "You switched the names to make them easier to find," Skye murmured to herself. An idea was percolating in her head and she narrowed her eyes as she thought. "You switched the names to make it easier to find." 

She stopped in the middle of the street, ignoring the indignant squawk of the person who almost ran into her back, her eyes growing wide. "What if switching the names made her _harder_ to find?" Skye said out loud. She took off towards Stark Tower at a run.

* * *

Pietro gaped as, just a few feet ahead of him, he saw his soulmate break into a run and dash into Stark Tower. 

The streets were crowded and hot and he hadn't seen her slender form even though he'd been following her, completely unaware. 

It'd taken him a long time to go back to sleep after his horrible nightmare, but when he'd finally woken that morning he'd realized that he actually did have more information about Skye than just her first name. He knew where she worked after all. He'd thrown on some clothes and immediately gone to find her. 

He just hadn't expected her to end up right in front of him. 

He started to run after her. Stark Tower was one of the most massive buildings on the skyline and he wanted to get to her before she disappeared inside what must be a maze of cubicles and corridors. But after a few steps he had to slow back to a walk. The pounding of his feet went straight to his left wrist and caused the healing bone to protest with stabbing pain. Cradling the injured limb against his chest he pushed his way through the huge glass doors. 

He was just in time to see his soulmate go through the second pair of glass doors on the other end of the lobby that led to the working areas of the Tower. They closed with finality behind her. 

"Skye!" he called, but she didn't hear him. He sprinted after her, ignoring the ache in his arm, only to nearly bang into the glass doors when they didn’t budge. He pushed against them, then slammed against them with his shoulder, but they remained firmly shut. Through the glass he could see Skye slip around the corner and out of sight.

"Jebati!" he swore in Sokovian. He pounded on the glass with his fist for good measure.

"May I help you?"

Pietro whirled towards the voice. There was a thin blonde woman sitting where Rose usually was. Her hair was styled with an old-fashioned flair, and that, combined with the pearls around her neck and the cut of her frilly burgundy blouse, caused Pietro to immediately think of the glamourous women in the black-and-white films Bruce had made him watch too many times. 

He put on his most charming smile. "Sorry about that," he gestured towards the doors. "I was hoping to catch her before she went in." 

The woman raised one perfect eyebrow. "Her?"

"Yes," Pietro broadened his grin. "She's one of your employees." 

"I assumed that, considering she went through those doors," the woman replied archly. She had a soft southern accent that did nothing to soften her tone. 

"That is true…Dottie." Pietro read her name off the engraved gold nametag attached to the front of her blouse. He looked at her through his eyelashes in a move that had kept him out of the principal's office more than once. "Perhaps you could help me contact her?"

Dottie was clearly unmoved by his attempt to be charming. She looked at him, and Pietro was suddenly very conscious of the fact he was wearing worn-in cargo shorts, a thin blue t-shirt and sandals in deference to the heat. He straightened his shoulders, deciding to brazen it out. 

Her dismissive expression didn't change. "And you are…?"

"Pietro," Pietro said immediately. "Pietro Maximoff. I'm a courier—well, used to be. I delivered here all the—"

She looked up from her computer. "We don’t have a courier named Maximoff." 

"I know," Pietro said. "I don't work for Stark Industries. I just delivered here a lot."

"I've never seen you before." She sniffed.

"I've never seen you either," his grin faltered when she just continued to glare at him. He cleared his throat. "Rose!" he said quickly. "Rose knows me! Maybe you could—"

"Rose isn't here." 

"I can see that. But maybe you could contact her?"

"If I could contact her, she'd be on the front desk, and I'd be back upstairs," Dottie said with a tight smile. 

"Please," Pietro tried again, desperation colouring his tone. "I'd really like to find my friend." 

Clearly Dottie came to some decision because she sighed and turned towards her computer. "What's her name?"

"Skye," Pietro said promptly. 

Dottie tilted her head. "Start Industries has over 98 thousand employees in offices throughout the United States and the World. I'm going to need more than just a first name to locate her in our directory." 

Pietro licked his lips. "I don't know her last name." 

"Well, that's unfortunate." Dottie turned back towards her computer. "Please feel free to return if you ever learn her full name." It was an obvious dismissal.

"Please, Dottie—"

Dottie turned the full force of her glare on him. "Mr. Maximoff," she said coldly. "I'm afraid I cannot help you."

"She's my soulmate!" Pietro blurted. "She's my soulmate and I just found her a week ago but I didn't get her name and—"

Dottie blinked, and everything about her softened. "Soulmate?"

"Yes," Pietro gulped. "Skye. She's my soulmate. I really want to find her." 

"Let me try again," Dottie said with a genuine smile. She typed something on her computer. She frowned and typed something else. "I assume you spell it with an 'e'?"

Pietro had no idea. "Yes?" 

"Well, we have seventeen employees with the name Skye with an 'e', and eight with Sky spelled without the 'e'. Considering that she came to this building, we can assume that anyone who doesn't work in New York can be eliminated from the list. As well, we can eliminate the three men with that name. That brings the list down to—" she paused dramatically, "four."

"Four?" Pietro bit his lip. 

"I'm emailing them to ask if they know a Mr. Maximoff right now." 

"Thank you!" Pietro breathed. He was so close he couldn't believe it. They waited together for a few minutes in pregnant silence, Pietro trying his best to keep still and not fidget with impatience.

"Oh," Dottie raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes?" Pietro leaned across her raised counter. She glared at him and he moved back.

"They've all emailed me back."

Pietro blinked. "That was fast." 

"I said it was urgent." Her eyes met his. "None of them say they know you," her expression was entirely sympathetic. "I'm sorry." 

It was like a clawed hand had grabbed ahold of his heart and squeezed. "Are you sure?" he said desperately. "She told me her name was Skye."

"Are you sure she's your soulmate?" Dottie asked.

"Yes!" Pietro exclaimed. "My mark—I felt it." He went to show her the 'Thank you,' written in feminine script on his left palm. He ended up showing her his cast instead. 

"Soulmates can be tricky things," Dottie said kindly. "Maybe you were confused?"

"I wasn't confused! She's my soulmate! I'm sure of it!" He gestured towards the glass doors. "I just saw her go through there. I'm sure I can find her if you let me through—"

Dottie's expression immediately hardened again. "That area is employees only." 

Pietro clutched the edge of the raised counter with his good hand. "But I know she's there! Please!"

"I'm sorry," she said, and there was no possibility of argument in her tone. "If you want to leave a note, I'll see if I can give it to her on her way out." 

"But you don't know who she is—"

"Apparently, neither do you, Mr. Maximoff. You may leave a note, or you may leave the premises, but I will not be letting you through those doors."

Pietro rubbed at his forehead, trying to keep his emotions in check. Her words were making him feel as young and as helpless as he'd been in the Latverian refugee camp. He swallowed, then swallowed again, trying to get the lump out of his throat. He really didn't want to cry in front of this blonde bureaucrat. "Could I please have some paper?"

Wordlessly she handed him a little pink notepad and a pen. Pietro took it and scrawled a short note, telling Skye he was sorry and he hoped she'd call him. He wrote his full name on the bottom before handing it back to Dottie. 

"I'll make sure she gets this," Dottie said as she put it with her stack of papers. They both knew it was a lie. It would be highly unlikely that Dottie would recognize Skye as she was leaving. 

"Maybe Rose can give it to her if you don't see her," Pietro said, grasping at straws.

"I'll be sure to leave it for her," Dottie said brightly. "Bye-bye now." 

"Thank you," Pietro said politely as he left. He looked back at the building as soon as he got outside, debating just camping out in front of it until the employees filed out for the night.

But then he remembered that Dottie had emailed every Skye in the building, and none of them had claimed him as their own. 

Skye didn't want him, and how could he blame her after how he treated her? He started walking, feeling strangely cold regardless of the heat of the August afternoon. 

He'd lost his soulmate. The woman he'd been waiting for since he was thirteen. He'd found her, but rejected her. Through his own short-sighted stupidity, she was gone. Just like his parents and his sister. Except for Bruce, he was alone.

Pietro grit his teeth. Skye might be lost to him but Wanda wasn’t. She was out there, somewhere, waiting for him to find her. And as soon as his wrist was better, he'd do just that.

* * *

Skye rushed over to her cubicle and nearly thrust the peach bubble-tea into Becca's hands. "She changed her name!"

"I already have a bubble-tea," Becca said as she took the offered drink from Skye. Then: "What?"

Skye dropped her bag onto her desk, set down her drink and then turned to Becca in excitement. "I was at the bubble-tea place, and I couldn't see 'perfect peach,' and then I realized that they'd changed the name to 'peach perfection' to make it easier to find. But it _hadn't_ been easier for me to find because I was looking for 'perfect' not 'peach' and—"

Becca put up her hand to slow Skye's torrent of words. "I am so not getting this." 

"Wanda! Wanda Maximoff! She's not a Maximoff anymore! Maybe not even a Wanda. Don't you get it? _She changed her name!_ "

Becca blinked, and then her face lit as she finally got what Skye was telling her. "She changed her name!"

"Yes!" Skye enthused. "She must have done that sometime in Germany. We can't find her because—"

"She's not a perfect peach anymore." Becca grinned. "That explains the whole Nahmen thing…" She turned back to the computer and opened another section of the algorithm. "So let's go back to her arrival at Landstuhl…"

Skye waited, tense, as Becca carefully poured over all the information the algorithm had collected about Wanda's time in Germany. 

"I found you!" Becca shouted at her computer screen. She turned to Skye, eyes bright with excitement. "You were right! She's not a Maximoff anymore. She was adopted a few months after her arrival, a Max and Magda Eisenhardt. Skye!" She grasped Skye's hands. "Skye, we've found her! She's alive!"

"Alive," Skye breathed, blinking back an immediate rush of tears. Pietro's sister was _alive._ They could be reunited. She had a sudden image of his face, his shock and joy as he saw Wanda again… "So we just need to find her address in Germany and—"

"No, Skye, we don't," Becca interrupted her. "Landstuhl is in Germany, but it's an American hospital, staffed by Americans. It looks like Magda was a doctor there and Max was some kind of administrator. But they're back in the States now. They came back four years ago. They're here." 

Skye sat down hard in Becca's vacant chair. "They're here?" she repeated faintly. Pietro had said he'd arrived in New York five years ago. His sister had been here just about that long. "They've been in the same country all this time?"

"The same _city,_ actually. The Eisenhardts live in Manhattan in Carnegie Hill." Becca gave a short whistle. "She must be some kind of doctor to be able to afford to live there—ah, here it is. She's a plastic surgeon and he's like, CEO of the hospital where she works. They're totally loaded." Becca turned and grinned broadly at Skye. 

Skye was shaking. "They're in _Manhattan?_ They've been right by Stark Tower this _whole time?_ "

"Pretty close, yeah."

"I need to call Doctor Banner. Pietro—" Skye grabbed her handset and then immediately dropped it. Her hands were shaking too hard.

Becca put a soothing hand on her wrist, deftly scooping up the handset with her other hand and tucking it under her chin. "Let me." She dialled.

It felt like an eternity until someone picked up the phone on the other end. 

"Hi Doctor Banner?" Becca said brightly, "My name's Rebecca Barnes. I think you know my brother, James? Anyway, I'm calling on behalf of Pietro's soulmate, Skye. She's found the location of his sister and she thought he'd like to know."

* * *

"Pietro?" Bruce called from the doorway of their apartment. "Pietro are you—what happened?"

Pietro sighed and closed his eyes where he was lying on his bed. Bruce must have found the evidence of his tantrum in the kitchen. He had intended to clean it up before his guardian got home, but he'd gone to his room instead. 

"Pietro," Bruce repeated after he hadn't responded. "I need you to come here please." 

Bruce, for the most part, was very calm and even-tempered. But in the extremely rare times he got angry, it was breathtaking. He didn't sound angry, but Pietro hadn't been with him for the better part of three months and maybe he got angry faster now. "Coming." Dutifully he got out of bed and went to the kitchen.

Bruce did a quick once-over of Pietro with his eyes, assessing him like the physician he was. He must have been satisfied by what he saw because he gestured towards the shattered glass that covered the tile floor of their small kitchen. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Pietro thinned his lips. He really didn’t want to talk to Bruce about his total failure with his soulmate. "I will clean it up." 

"So this was an accident?" Bruce raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

"Yes."

Bruce's eyebrows crept higher. "A glass broke with enough force that pieces scattered to the farthest corners of the kitchen by accident." He used air quotes for the last two words. 

Pietro shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like lying to Bruce. "Yes," he tried again, but even he could hear the uncertainty in that one syllable. 

Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Great," he muttered. He sighed and toed off his shoes and put his briefcase, keys and hospital lanyard down on the small table by their door. He turned back to Pietro. "Can you please clean it up?"

Pietro nodded, got their broom and started sweeping up the glass pieces. They tinkled together with an almost pleasant sound. 

Bruce sat down on their couch, stretching his legs out on the coffee table. "So, I got an interesting telephone call today." 

Pietro looked up from his work. "Yes?"

"Yeah," Bruce said. 

Pietro nodded at Bruce, unsure what he should say in response and bent down to sweep up the pieces into the dustpan. 

Bruce waited until the sound of glass landing in the garbage had ceased. "Your soulmate called me." 

Pietro stopped dead, broom clutched in his hand so tightly his knuckles went white. "What?"

"Pietro," Bruce said, and his voice sounded infinitely weary and sad at the same time. "Why didn't you tell me you'd found your soulmate?"

Pietro opened his mouth, his mind totally silenced by Bruce's words. "Skye?" he said finally. "She called you?"

"Her friend Rebecca, actually," Bruce said. "But yes, it was Skye who asked her to make the call." He stood and went over to the breakfast bar that separated their living room from the kitchen. "I think I may have met her when you were in the hospital, but neither of you told me that she was your soulmate. Why?"

"Because—because," Pietro stuttered. "Because I fucked up!" He forced out. 

"Fucked up?" Bruce repeated. "How?"

"I told her I didn't want her. Right before you came. And then she left. It took me over a week to realize I was wrong. I tried to contact her, but by then she'd decided she wanted nothing to do with me. I made every mistake possible and now I am alone." Pietro grit his teeth against the sadness and shame from saying those words out loud. His eyes were burning.

"I don't think you've fucked up that badly if she's calling me to help you find your sister," Bruce said with a gentle smile. Then he turned sad. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd use it as a reason for me not going to find Wanda," Pietro said, staring down at the broom. 

"I guess that's fair, considering how hard I was trying to make you stay." 

Pietro's head shot up. "You think it is fair?"

"Yes." Bruce folded his arms against the breakfast bar. "I'm completely aware that it was my insistence that you not go find your sister that caused you to leave three months ago. So, yes, fair that you wouldn't trust me with this information now." 

"I should have told you." 

Bruce shrugged. "I understand why you didn't. Three months apart is pretty significant. I'd understand that you'd need more time before you trusted me like you did before." 

Suddenly Pietro felt about three inches tall. Bruce was being so kind and understanding about Pietro's actions, when it was Pietro who hadn't responded to any of Bruce's attempt at communication for all that time. "I should have texted you back," Pietro said mournfully. "It was very bad of me to not do that." 

"I would've liked to have heard from you." Bruce's smile was wistful. "Just to know that you were okay. I had to go by the read receipts instead."

"I'm sorry," Pietro said. "I should have—"

"What's done is done," Bruce said with gentle finality. "You're back now, and we have a second chance and that's all that really matters." He grinned. "But I really want to know how you met your soulmate, and what you did so that you were upset enough to smash a glass." 

Pietro smiled back sheepishly, then grimaced. "I am not very proud of what I did." 

"I get that. But she did call. So maybe you can still turn it around." 

"I really hope so," Pietro said with vehemence. "What did she say?"

"Good news," Bruce's smile broadened. "They found your sister."

The broom clattered loudly to the floor, and for a moment Pietro thought he might just follow it down. 

"Whoa!" Bruce was instantly by his side, holding him while he swayed and supporting him as they moved to the couch. "Let's sit for the rest of this conversation." 

Pietro collapsed gratefully onto it, sure his legs wouldn't hold him any longer. "They found Wanda?" he croaked. "This is true?"

"Yes," Bruce said with gratifying immediacy. "She's alive, she's healthy and she actually lives in Manhattan." 

"Manhattan?" Pietro repeated, and then: "She's alive?" His brain was full of the words _she's alive! She's ALIVE!_ over and over. He could barely hear Bruce over the sound. 

"She's alive," Bruce nodded. "She was adopted by an American family and they took her to Manhattan. She's been safe and well all this time."

"My sister—" Pietro said. His voice broke. He covered his eyes as he cried. "She is safe. Oh my God. She is safe." He sobbed, repeating the words over and over in Sokovian.

Bruce pulled him close and held him while Pietro wept for all the years they'd been apart; for his constant fear that he'd never see her again; for his joy that she had been found. After what felt like hours Pietro's tears began to slow. He wiped at his face with the hem of his t-shirt. "Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," Bruce said. "Finding Wanda is kind of a big deal." His eyes were red-rimmed and suspiciously wet as well. 

The rush of emotions were beginning to be replaced by an eager, almost giddy anticipation. "I can go to her?"

"Probably," Bruce said. "Rebecca said she was going to call Wanda to let her know you'd be calling. Kind of like a head's up, you know? To make sure she's okay with seeing you after all this time."

"Of course she will want to see me." Pietro was grinning so broadly his face hurt. "Can I call her? When can I call her? Now?"

Bruce laughed at Pietro's enthusiasm. "I have her contact information And Rebecca's phone number too, if you want to get in touch with Skye."

Some of Pietro's excitement dimmed at bit. "Skye doesn't want me." 

"I think the fact she found your sister kind of does?"

"She was just being kind," Pietro said. He remembered her kindness when he was at the hospital. It was the type of person she was. "She doesn't want me," he said again. 

"How are you so sure?"

Pietro dropped his gaze to the floor, and with halting words, told Bruce about how he'd rejected Skye, not once but twice after they'd met. He told him how it took him far too long to realize she was his ally and not his enemy; and then how Dottie had sent that email and how all his hopes had been dashed when Skye had denied they'd ever met.

Bruce leaned forward on his knees. "Pietro," he said after a moment. "She _found your sister_. I think that's a good sign." 

Pietro shook his head. "If she actually wanted me to contact her, it would've been her phone number she gave. Not her friend's." 

"But it was her friend that called—" Bruce started, then stopped, clearly deciding something. He slipped off his suit jacket. "Let me show you something." 

Pietro eyed Bruce quizzically as his guardian began to unbutton his collared shirt. "What are you doing?"

"This is my soulmark." Bruce pulled his shirt to the side, showing Pietro the short sentence that was inscribed across the left side of his chest, just above his heart. _Nice to meet you, Dr. Banner_ the words said in an elegant, feminine hand. They were a faded grey colour, nowhere near the dark black writing that Pietro had on his palm. 

Pietro blinked at the writing. He'd wondered why Bruce didn't have a soulmate. He'd also wondered why Bruce never went shirtless, even when they went swimming. Two questions he'd somehow known not to ask in the seven years he'd known him. The faded colours of the letters had answered both his questions in the most tragic way. "She is dead." 

"Apparently," Bruce said on an exhale. "The colours changed about two years into my Residency." He smiled, but it was sad. "She's most of the reason why I went to medical school in the first place. So I could actually be the doctor she was destined to meet. Her death was the reason I went to Latveria." 

Working in a refugee camp would've been an excellent distraction from learning that you'd never be with the one person the Universe had chosen for you. Pietro rubbed at his cast above where his soulmarks were. "You never told me." 

"It never seemed like the right time," Bruce said, buttoning up his shirt. "Until now." 

"And you are showing me now to remind me that life is short and opportunities should not be wasted," Pietro said softly. 

Bruce smiled. He stretched so he could reach into his pant's pocket. "Here's Rebecca Barnes' number. She's Skye's friend." He gave Pietro a folded piece of paper. "You should call." 

Pietro unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Bruce's messy doctor writing. It had Rebecca's name along with her work number on it, as well as a telephone number for Wanda and an address as well. Wanda really was in New York, just a short subway ride away. For a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. His sister was _so close_. And maybe his soulmate, as well. Years of wanting finally over, all because of that one piece of paper. 

Bruce was probably right. Opportunities like this shouldn't be wasted. 

He shook his head, immediately changing his mind. Dottie had sent her that email and Skye had responded like they'd never met. It didn't matter what rebecca had said. Skye truly didn't want him. He had his sister. It would have to be enough.

"I think I will go call." Pietro stood. His hands were shaking minutely where they gripped the paper. 

"Your soulmate?" Bruce called after him.

Pietro pretended he didn't hear him.

* * *

Wanda had been overjoyed to speak to him. As soon as she realized who he was, she'd started sobbing so hard that a man had taken the phone from her and demanded to know who was upsetting his daughter.

Stammering, Pietro had introduced himself, and the man's tone had softened. He'd immediately invited Pietro to come see Wanda, and that he'd do his best to make sure she was coherent by the time he arrived. Pietro had promised to leave immediately.

It took over an hour to get to Wanda's massive condo from his apartment in Brooklyn by public transit and it was early evening by the time Pietro was buzzed in and took the elevator up to one of the upper floors. He found himself in front of their condo's front door, excited and terrified all at once. He knocked.

The door flew open and before he could even react his arms were full of his sister. She was hugging him so hard he was sure she'd leave bruises, but he couldn't care. She was plastered against him, her face pressed into his neck, crying like her heart had been broken and mended all at once. 

"Pietro," she sobbed in Sokovian. "Oh my God, Pietro! I thought you were dead. All this time I thought you'd died with our parents. I thought I was alone. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Pietro hugged her tighter, tears running freely down his face, soaking into her hair. They were in the hallway of her building, holding each other and weeping uncontrollably, but the idea didn't bother him at all. He had found Wanda. She was safe. "Don’t cry, don't cry," he said back to her in Sokovian even though his tears weren't slowing. "I am here. I'm here. Don't cry." 

It felt like forever before both of them had cried themselves out and were able to disengage from their embrace. Pietro held her at arm's length, drinking her in. Her hair was longer and darker than he remembered it, falling in soft waves past her shoulders. She'd grown, too. When he'd last seen her she'd been a bit taller than he'd been, and had lorded it over him every chance she got. Now he was almost a full head taller. While he could see the shadow of the little girl she once was in her features, her face and body were that of a mature woman. His heart clenched to see how much time he'd lost and he felt the renewing of tears behind his eyelids. He smirked instead. "I thought you were smaller." 

"I thought you were dead!" She cried. "When I woke up in hospital—"

"Let's carry on this conversation inside, shall we?" A man said. He was at least ten years older than Bruce was, with a shock of thick, white hair crowning a sculpted, handsome face. He looked serious and almost severe, but his eyes were kind and the way he rested his hands on Wanda's shoulders as he led her into their condo was infinitely gentle.

There was a woman waiting inside. "I'm Magda, Wanda's mother," she said as she shook Pietro's hand and then handed him some tissue so he could wipe his face. She was a petite woman with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, not exactly beautiful but completely striking. She looked capable and confidant and like a perfect match for her husband. "I am so delighted to meet you." 

"As we both are," the man said. He shook Pietro's hand with a grip that was just shy of painful. "I’m Max. Welcome."

"Thank you," Pietro said. He couldn't keep his eyes from Wanda, still amazed that she was actually there. She was talking softly to her mother, wiping her eyes with a tissue and smiling tremulously. It was obvious that Wanda and her adopted parents were close. Pietro waited for a flare of anger or jealousy that should have come with that realization. They'd had parents, after all. Good parents who had died horrifically for nothing. But it didn't come. Instead all he felt was a profound gratitude to them for ensuring that Wanda had been cared for and loved. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank you for taking care of her." 

"Taking care of Wanda has been the biggest privilege of my life," Magda said to Pietro, but her eyes were focussed on her daughter. "My heart breaks for why Wanda came into our life, but I'm so grateful that fate put her there." She stroked Wanda's hair. 

"I am grateful for that, as well." Pietro said. He thought of Bruce and how much his constant love and support had meant to him in Latveria and after. He and Wanda had both been lucky.

"We looked for you," Max said quietly. "We knew she had a brother, and we searched for you. But we couldn't find anything." He dropped his gaze before meeting Pietro's eyes again. "I'm sorry." 

"I was evacuated to a refugee camp in Latveria." Pietro explained. "There were hundreds of people, many of them children. None of us had identification. It took the Red Cross many months to register us all." 

"No wonder we couldn't find you," Magda said. "You really didn't exist." 

"Not in any records for at least a year, no," Pietro agreed. He hadn't thought about it before now, but he would've disappeared just as completely as his sister did. He'd just assumed he'd been the only one looking. 

He felt his sister slip his hand into his. "I didn't know you were in a refugee camp." Her voice was small, her eyes huge with concern and sadness. 

"I was alright." Pietro smiled down at her. It wasn't entirely true. The camp was a rough, violent place where children were often treated as a commodity instead of a person, but Wanda didn't have to know that, and if Pietro had his way, she never would. "I had my own guardian there. A doctor. He took care of me."

"Bruce Banner," Magda smiled. "Your friend Rebecca told us. I've heard of his work. He's a good man." 

"The best," Pietro said sincerely. He realized that he'd probably never told Bruce how much his guardian meant to him, especially not after running away for three months. He vowed to fix that immediately. 

"I have so many questions!" Magda said. "But I’m sure they can wait for your next visit. I think you and Wanda would probably like a chance to catch up in private." She went to Max and took his arm. 

"Please feel free to stay as long as you want," Max said to Pietro. "You're family." 

Pietro blinked. He hadn't expected that warm of a reception from Wanda's parents. "Thank you," he stammered. 

"And bring Bruce with you next time," Magda said as she and Max headed out of the living room. "I'd like to thank him for taking such good care of Wanda's brother." They went into the hallway that separated the vast sitting room from the living quarters of the house and quietly shut the door. He and Wanda were alone. Together. For the first time in almost ten years.

Wanda was looking at him like if she even blinked he'd disappear. "Come," she said, taking is hand and leading him to the huge couch. He sat beside her, hands still linked. She turned to him, her knee touching his thigh. "So Pietro," she said to him in Sokovian. "Tell me everything."

* * *

They talked until dawn. 

"Your house is incredible," Pietro mused when their conversation had ebbed. The condo was huge, the sitting area easily as large as Bruce and Pietro's whole apartment. One wall was entirely glass and he could see the sun breaking in stripes of orange and yellow over the skyline. It was going to be another beautiful day.

"My parents are rich," Wanda smiled, but then her face fell. "I think things were much better for me than you. I'm so sorry." 

"We both lost our family," Pietro said, taking her hand again. "And both of us still ended up being raised by good people. It's not a contest." 

"Besides," Wanda said, and the mischievous grin he hadn't seen in forever flashed over her lips. "If it were a contest, I would win." 

He laughed. "Probably." 

She touched his cast. At some point during the night he'd told her about how he'd broken his arm. Her expression was sad as she traced her fingers along its edges where it met his skin. "You have lived so much of your life with me knowing nothing about it."

"I feel the same way," Pietro said softly. "We used to live in each other's pockets."

That made her smile. "I remember," she said. "You wanted everything between us to be exactly the same."

"I even wore your dresses to school so we'd be more alike," they both laughed at the memory of four-year-old Pietro stubbornly insisting on wearing one of Wanda's dresses to school. "Our parents were so good about it."

"They bought you pink shoes just like mine for years!" She giggled, but then sighed. "I miss them." 

"Me too." They sat in silence for a while, watching the sunrise, hands clasped together in their shared, quiet grief.

"Remember how mad you were that I was born with my soulmark and you still had to wait?" Wanda smiled, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"I was furious," Pietro agreed readily. "It made us different in a way I couldn't fix." He paused, wondering if she brought it up for a reason. "Have you found him?"

She shook her head.

"But your bond? You could feel him since forever. How can you not have found each other?"

"I know," Wanda said. "But I haven't felt anything from him since that night." 

He knew she meant when the bomb killed their parents and changed everything. "But it's been years." 

"I know," she said again. She shrugged. "I am used to it." 

He could tell she was lying, just like he always could when they were small. But unlike then he didn't call her up on it. "I'm sorry," he said instead. 

"But what about you?" she said with false cheerfulness. "Have you finally been marked by the Universe?"

"Yes, actually." He sighed.

Wanda squealed with delight. "Where are they? Can I see? Who is she? Can I meet her?"

Pietro shook his head and smiled at her ruefully. "They're on my left hand, so no you can't see them now. And I don't actually know if she wants me to find her." At Wanda's questioning look, he continued to tell her the whole story, starting with finding her when he took her package and ending with getting the note from Rebecca, telling him his soulmate had found his sister. 

When he finished she was looking at him. "So this friend of Rebecca, Skye, is your soulmate?"

"Yes, but she doesn't want me." He grimaced and looked out the vast window. The sun was now above the horizon, shining brightly in a perfect blue sky.

"And you know this because of the email she sent saying she didn't know you."

"Yes," Pietro said again.

"But then Rebecca called to tell you that Skye had found me, right after that?"

"Yes. It was later that afternoon."

"That makes no sense." Wanda tilted her head. "She sends an email that morning saying she's never met you, but then has her friend call Bruce that afternoon, where she makes sure to tell him that it was your soulmate, Skye, that found me. For you." 

Pietro opened his mouth to respond, then paused. He'd never put the sequence of events together like that. "You're right. That makes no sense." 

"So one of those things can't be true," Wanda continued with her irrefutable logic. "Either your soulmate didn't find me, or it wasn't your soulmate that said she didn't know you in an email, but one of them can't be true." 

"Unless she wanted me to be confused? As some sort of revenge?"

Wanda made a face. "She wouldn't do that." 

"Okay, fine," Pietro huffed. "So which one is the lie?"

"It has to be the email," Wanda said with total confidence. "Because Rebecca Barnes wouldn’t have any reason to find me, and Skye—your soulmate—would."

"But then why did she say she didn't know—"

"Your Skye didn't get that email."

It was Pietro's turn to make a face. "The blonde woman sent it to every Skye in Stark Tower." 

"Maybe, maybe not. Or maybe Skye's email address was wrong. You did say that the usual receptionist wasn't there. Maybe this one isn't as good at her job as the other one."

Pietro had to nod in agreement with that. At the very least Rose would've known who Skye was. "So it's possible that my Skye didn't get that email." The longer he thought about it, the more sense it made. 

"For sure she didn't get it," Wanda said. "Because if my soulmate showed up looking for me, it wouldn't matter how mad I was, I'd go to him." For a moment her face crumpled, and Pietro knew she was thinking of the unknown man at the other end of her bond. The one that she somehow couldn't feel anymore. He had an immediate image of Bruce's letters, faded to a silver-grey after his soulmate's death.

"Your words?" Pietro said softly. "Are they still black?" Wanda nodded and Pietro sighed in relief. Where there was life, there was hope. "You'll find him." Pietro squeezed her hand. 

She squeezed his hand back. "Not as soon as you'll find yours."

"You really think that Skye will forgive me so easily?" Pietro felt the embers of hope begin to flame in his chest. 

"Maybe not easily," Wanda said, "but she'll certainly want to see you again. I mean, have you looked at yourself? You're actually handsome!"

Pietro laughed. "I pale in comparison to the beauty of my sister." 

"Of course." Wanda flipped her hair, but then she collapsed into his arms. "I've missed you so much." 

"I missed you too." He hugged her tightly. "I thought I'd never find you." 

"We found each other. Thanks to your Skye," Wanda said. "Now it's your turn to find her. You need to call Rebecca Barnes." 

Pietro firmed his mouth. "No," he said. "I'm not just going to call. I’m going back to Stark Tower."

* * *

"Do you think Pietro and Wanda have reunited by now?" Becca asked as they left the bubble-tea shop and started their walk back to Stark Tower. 

Skye made a face. "How would I know? It's not like he's called." She took a sip of her purple drink, trying to swallow down the constant taste of disappointment and hurt. 

"Well, it's not like he's called me either to tell me how it went," Becca grimaced. "I mean, we go through all that trouble—"

"Why would he call to tell you?" Skye looked at her friend, confused. 

"Because I gave both him and the Eisenhardts my number, remember?" Becca said. 

"But you gave him my number too, right? So he could call me too, if he wanted? Not that he will…" She muttered under her breath.

Becca was looking at her strangely. "You never asked me to do that." 

Skye stopped walking. "You _didn't_ give him my number?"

Becca stopped walking too. "Well I never spoke to _him,_ remember? I only spoke with Doctor Banner."

"And you didn't give Doctor Banner my number, either?"

"Why would I give Doctor Banner your number?"

"So Pietro could've called me if he wanted!" Skye said, exasperated. "How will he contact me now?"

"Shit. I never thought of that." Becca looked crestfallen. "Sorry."

Skye shrugged and started walking again. "It's okay," she sighed. "I mean, if he really wanted to find me, he would. He knows where I work after all." 

"I'm sorry," Becca repeated. "I was really hoping he'd get his head out of his ass and come to you after he'd found Wanda." 

"Yeah," Skye sighed again. She shook her head. "Not that he'd be a good match for me, though. I mean really. He's so young—"

"He won't be nineteen forever." 

Skye shot Becca a look. "He's not going to university. That's a problem too." 

"He just said he's not going now," Becca said reasonably. She took a sip of her drink. "University will always be there." 

Becca wasn't wrong. Her anti-Pietro protests were token at best and Becca obviously knew it. But she still didn't like hearing she was wrong. "Who's side are you on, anyway?"

"The Universe's." Becca grinned.

"The same Universe that hit him with a taxi?" Skye shuddered. "I'm worried about him."

Becca shot her a look. "You mean because of that bullshit Bucky said about the Universe punishing people who reject their soulmates?"

"He got hit by a taxi! Like, _the second_ he walked away from me."

Becca rolled her eyes. "That's just a coincidence."

"Or its fate making Pietro her bitch," Skye said. "I wish I knew he was safe." 

"The Universe really doesn't work that way."

"He broke his wrist!'

"The Universe doesn't work that way! Regardless of what my stupid brother says!" Becca said hotly. "Maybe he'll come back. Maybe not. But either way he'll be fine." 

"I'm not so sure." 

"I'm sure of it," Becca said. "My brother just has issues because—" She stopped talking and pointed with her peach bubble tea towards a man who was jaywalking across the street in front of Stark Tower. "Isn't that Pietro?"

"What?" Skye whipped her head towards where Becca was pointing, her heart racing. She immediately identified Pietro's leanly-muscled body as he crossed and every cell in her body suddenly felt like it was being pulled towards him. 

He must have felt it too, because he turned towards them, stepping further into the laneway, and directly into the path of a yellow taxi. There was the awful sound of screeching tires and the blaring of a horn. She watched in horror as the taxi hit Pietro sending him careening sideways, landing on his forearms before he flipped onto his back on the pavement. 

Skye's eyes grew wide as her drink fell from nerveless fingers. It had actually happened. The Universe had killed her soulmate, right in front of her.

* * *

Pietro had gone straight from breakfast with his sister and her family to Stark Tower. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes and he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, but he was full of a buoyant, boundless energy. He would find Rebecca Barnes, and she would recognize him because of how many times she'd given him packages. She would bring him to Skye, and he would apologize and Skye would forgive him and he'd be with his soulmate, just like the Universe wanted. 

It would be perfect. 

He started to cross the street in front of Stark Tower, nearly running in his eagerness to reach the massive glass doors. It didn't matter if it was Dottie or Rose at the reception desk. Nothing and no one would stop him from finding Skye this time. They were meant to be together.

Half-way across the street, he felt a sudden flare of sensation in his left palm that quickly spread through his entire body, centering on his heart. His soulmate was close. He turned his head to find her, stepping forward as he did so.

A horn blared, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a taxi bearing down on him, tires screeching. Instinctively, Pietro jumped, feeling the taxi clip his right calf and sending him sprawling. He landed hard on his forearms, rolling over and onto his back with the force of his landing. He lay still, feeling the sharp stinging of his elbows where the asphalt had taken off a few layers of skin. His leg was sore where the taxi had hit it; his left wrist was howling in pain. 

He forced himself up to a sitting position, bracing himself to stand. His whole body was sore, and he really didn't want to move, but he was in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Manhattan. If he didn’t get up, someone was going to run him over. As it was, there were cars piling up behind him, and a cluster of people staring down. 

A woman was running towards him, brown hair flying. She rushed to his side, her hands running from his face to his neck and shoulders and then back again like she was trying to feel all of him at once. His soulmate. His pain immediately lessened and he felt his face split into a wide smile. She had come back. 

"Skye," he breathed. 

"Oh my God," she was saying, her hands still flying over him. "Oh my God. You're hurt! How bad are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? You need an ambulance!" She looked up at another woman who was standing a few feet away, hands pressed to her mouth. Pietro vaguely recognized her as Rebecca; the woman with the packages. "Becca! Call 911!"

"I'm okay." Pietro winced as he started to stand, Skye automatically rising with him to help him to his feet. His right calf was definitely sore and he could feel blood seeping from the scrapes on his elbows. He and Skye moved slowly to the curb. He was limping heavily, glad that both Skye and Rebecca were there to help support his weight. They took him inside Stark Towers, putting him down onto one of the luxurious white leather chairs strategically placed throughout the main entrance. 

The blonde woman was at the reception desk and she stood when they came in.

"What happened?"

"He got hit by a taxi," Skye said tersely. "He needs an ambulance."

"I am fine," Pietro said quickly. He was scraped up and sore, but nothing was broken. "I'm fine," he repeated. "I will be okay."

"Well let me know if you change your mind…" Dottie said. She sat back down.

"I'm going to get the first aid kit," Becca said, running off through the secondary doors that had thwarted Pietro the last time he'd been there. He and Skye were alone.

She was bent over him, her hands still moving restlessly over his body, assessing for more damage. Her touch felt amazing. 

"You can't do this anymore. The Universe is going to kill you if you keep rejecting me. You can't. You can't do it. It'll kill you." Her teeth were worrying the edge of her full, pink lips, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Please Pietro. Please."

He caught her hands. "I'm not rejecting you. I should never have let you go the first time. I was stupid, so stupid. I should never have let you go."

"You rejected me," she said, and now the tears were beginning to seep out of her eyes, making Pietro feel like his heart was seeping out of his chest. "And then a taxi hit you. _Twice!_ " She shook her head, her hair waving around her face. "I can't watch you get hurt again."

"I was coming back to find you." Pietro squeezed her hands gently with his words. "I came back for you. Skye, I came back!"

Her gaze met his, comprehension slowly dawning as his words finally penetrated through her shock and fear. "You came back?"

"I came back," he agreed. "And I should never have rejected you. I was so stupid and so wrong. I want to be with you. I want you as my soulmate. I was so stupid and I'm so sorry for what I did. I'll never leave you again. I'm so sorry."

Skye was looking at him, her eyes now bright with happiness instead of tears. She put her hands on either side of his face, leaned in and kissed him.

He pulled her towards him and onto his lap, his arms wrapping tightly around her. She was slender and compact and a perfect fit in his arms. Her lips were soft and insistent against his; her mouth tasted of something cool and sweet that reminded him of flowers. He never wanted to let her go. 

A woman cleared her throat, and reluctantly Pietro broke their embrace. Becca was standing in front of the chair, a dark-haired man with a metal arm was standing beside her. She was holding a white metal box in front of her. 

"I brought the first aid kit," she said.

"Damn," the man said, eyeing Pietro's multiple scrapes and bruises. "Maybe you should be in hospital?"

Pietro smiled into Skye's eyes, feeling the softness of her hair in his good hand. She'd lightened the underside of her hair so that it would show through when she moved and he instantly loved it. He loved _her_. He was never going to let her go. "No," he said to man, his gaze never leaving Skye's, "I'm exactly where I need to be."

"I'll take your word for it," the man said, then turned to Skye. "You got the rest of the day off. Take Pietro home and get him cleaned up. We'll see you tomorrow." He took the first aid kit from Becca. "Dottie," he called as they headed towards the employee's only entrance. "Can you please let HR know that Daisy's got the afternoon off? Code it as overtime." 

"Thanks Bucky!" Skye said joyfully.

"Bye Skye! And Congratulations! I told you it would all work out!" Becca blew Skye a kiss, and they left.

Pietro shifted Skye in his lap, revelling in the feel of her. Then he tilted his head. "Why did he call you Daisy?"

"It's my name," she replied. "Daisy Johnson. Skye's just a nickname."

His sister had been right. Skye had never gotten the email because she wasn't really a Skye. Although she really was: his sun and moon and sky all together, and forever if he was lucky. He laughed.

"What's so funny?" Skye smiled.

"The same time yesterday I thought you and my sister were lost to me, forever, but today, I suddenly have you both. And it was you who brought Wanda to me." He gripped her tighter. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Skye said softly, and he felt the words flare on his palm; the Universe telling him he'd never be alone again. 

"I think the Universe is pretty good," he said. It was true. He had gotten Bruce back, his sister and his soulmate all at once, and it'd only taken getting hit by a taxi twice to make it happen. Life was perfect

"You think the Universe is pretty good, huh?" Skye said.

"Yes." Pietro stroked her face, memorizing her features.

Skye leaned forward, her lips brushing his. "I think I do, too." 

END


End file.
